


Castiel Enchanted

by ANobleCompanion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boys Kissing, Cursed Castiel, Dean's a prince, Ella Enchanted (book) crossover, Ella Enchanted (movie) crossover, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fallen Angels, Fantasy AU, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Free Will, Happy Ending, M/M, Obedience, Purgatory, Sword Fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion/pseuds/ANobleCompanion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel was a baby, the angel Naomi blessed him with the gift of obedience.  Despite the curse, Castiel grows up with a strong mind and heart.  To keep people from discovering his secret, Castiel spends most of his childhood without a close friend - until he meets Dean, Prince of Fell.  Together, they will learn about friendship, love and what it takes to find your own free will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was so nervous when I posted this, I forgot to thank Lily (drownedinblissfulconfusion) and Michelle (shellygurumi) who read this through with me, kept me sane, kept me writing and kept me grammatically correct. Any errors left are all my own. Thanks too for anyone who played 1k1h with me during this fic!!

The first time he met the Prince of Fell, Castiel was crying as he studiously tried to avoid the company of others.  He had separated himself from the rest of the funeral party, knowing there was little sincerity in their grief.  His father had already frowned at him as though Castiel’s silent tears had caused a scene and embarrassed him.  

So he walked down to the tree - _their_ tree.  The one his mother had so often read to him under when he was growing up.  His father might have been the writer, but his mother was the storyteller.  Her voice offered protection from all harm and her wit and attitude could disarm any nobleman before they had even realized they’d been insulted.  She wove visions with her words and she was Castiel’s world.  

So as he sat with his head against his knees, the unexpected hand in front of him offering him a handkerchief was hardly welcome.  He frowned up at the person holding it until he recognized the face of the crown prince.  

Castiel scrambled to his feet, and looked upward at the slightly taller boy.  “Y-your Highness.” Castiel supposed he should have bowed, but he was so shocked and still so grief ridden that all he could manage was a slight tip of his head.  

The prince gave him a wavering smile and it was only then that Castiel realized his eyes were also red rimmed.  

“Please, will you call me Dean?  You’re Castiel, right?  Lady Ellen spoke of you often.”  Dean smiled a little wistfully.  “She always made official occasions more enjoyable.  I’ll miss her.”  

Castiel could tell the prince was sincere, but he didn’t speak.  Instead, he tilted his head to the side and studied Dean.  He couldn’t understand why the prince would bother to seek him out, to speak to him.  They had never met before.  Even if he had admired Lady Ellen, so had many others.  They all saved their sympathy for his father, who was too immersed in himself and his great new masterpiece to spare more than the salutary requirements of mourning.  Castiel knew his father would miss his mother, but he wouldn’t really miss _her_.  He would miss the status she had brought to the family; the wealth that allowed a simple baron to wile away his hours with ink and paper without producing anything more than literary dribbles.  

His mother was the noblewoman, his father was granted his minor title only upon their marriage.  Castiel had never understood how a woman so bright and full of life, with such a great intelligence, had wound up with someone so introverted, timid and, in many ways, self-serving.  

Anna, their cook and Castiel’s nursemaid (as she had been for Lady Ellen), assured Castiel that at one time, Carver had been charming and far more entertaining.  He had wooed well before one of his small collections of prose had become temporarily popular and he spent the rest of his life trying to chase the same success.  

So Castiel looked at Dean in confusion.  Anna often chastised him that he stared too frequently and too long at people - as though he was trying to attain their measure and pick them apart at the same time.  Cas supposed he was.  He found it very important to understand what motivated a person before interacting with them directly.  Most people around him, his father included, found the practice rather off-putting.  

Dean shifted from one foot to another, appearing slightly uncomfortable, but Castiel suspected it was more from his own lack of having anything else to say rather than Castiel’s scrutiny.  

“Keep the handkerchief.  I have plenty others.  Besides, you never know when it might come in handy.  Lady Ellen could probably come up with a hundred uses for it before supper.”  

He was right.  She could have.  Castiel looked down at the scrap of cloth, and back up to the prince again.  “Thank you, Your Highness.”

The prince’s face broke into its first real smile.  “I told you, call me Dean.”

“Dean.”

The prince nodded and turned back to stand with his family - the King standing near the head of the processional and shadowed by his younger son, Sam.  Castiel watched him go before looking back down at the handkerchief.  

Castiel would call the Prince Dean from now on.  He had no choice.  

 

* * *

 

Castiel was cursed.  There were many who thought being cursed was something auspicious.  In fact, most didn’t refer to such spells as curses at all.  Castiel decided early on that _they_ had clearly never been the victim of an angel’s _blessing_.  

There were many angels in Fell, though hardly any of them ever chose to reveal themselves.  For the most part, they blended into society.  Every now and then, they would grant a small gift.  Usually a trinket.  Never anything big.  It was against angelic code.  They were meant to watch and aid humanity, but not to really interfere in the grander scheme of things.  According to legend, they had been cast out of their original home.  They had come to Fell and watched over mankind as a penance for their own arrogance.  

Some of the older families had a guardian angel who protected and watched over the whole family.  Often, without said family even realizing it.  

Naomi was not like most angels.  Where most of her kind tried hard to avoid detection, she broadcast her presence wherever she went.  She particularly enjoyed frequenting happy occasions, feeding off the energy of those around her and drawing the attention of an audience as she bestowed her gift upon those the celebration was intended for.  Births and weddings were her favorite haunts.  There were reasons, however, that angels were not meant to do more than small spells.  They never turned out quite how the caster intended.  Naomi rarely stuck around to see the results of her work, though.  In her mind, her gifts were well loved and cherished by all whom she _blessed_.  

While it was customary to invite any known angels (still few and far between) to such celebrations for luck, it became common practice to leave at least one angel off the list.  Of course, Naomi never felt she needed an invitation and did not understand the slight.  

Though Lady Ellen had wanted to keep Castiel’s birth quiet, Carver, in his desire to be someone important, chose to announce to the world the birth of his first son.  Though he himself would be too painfully shy to interact with most of the guests, he still wanted to show he could entertain with the highest classes.  And so, a large party was thrown.  

When Naomi arrived, Castiel had already missed his nap and was overdue for a feeding.  While normally a very cheerful baby, right then, he was in a rare temper.  Despite the protestations of both Lady Ellen and Anna, Naomi insisted on seeing him.  When she held him aloft and cooed nonsensical gibberish to him, Castiel peed on her.  He was, after all, an infant.  Though clearly irritated, Naomi simply snapped her fingers and cleaned her outfit.  The other angels present, both known and unknown, frowned in disapproval.  Instead of putting Castiel down, she pulled him in and began rocking him as though trying to put him to sleep.  But Castiel did not know her and he was having none of it.  He was tired of strangers.  So he screamed.  And screamed.  Finally, Naomi snapped her fingers again as she looked down at him.  

“ _Castiel_! I give you the blessing of obedience!” Lady Ellen stifled a small gasp of horror.

“Now Castiel, go to sleep.” And Castiel did.  Naomi beamed up at Lady Ellen.  

“Aren’t you pleased?  You now have the perfect child.”  

 

* * *

 

Castiel didn’t know about Naomi and the events that surrounded his own birth ceremony until his fifth birthday party.  

Lady Ellen had been teaching Castiel to swim.  It was a rare skill and he had unwisely bragged about it to those gathered around.  One of the other boys scoffed and told him to prove it.  Of course, Castiel had done little more than splash around in a small pond while held by Lady Ellen.  He had never swum on his own and he had certainly never swum in the river that provided the closest source of water at the time.  

Castiel knew it was a bad idea.  He knew he shouldn’t go into the river.  He tried not to.  But the more he tried, the more he started to feel a sharp pain in his shoulder blades, like something being ripped out of him from behind, or digging into him and pushing him forward. It hurt so badly, he doubled over at the agony.  The boy who had challenged him had laughed as Castiel curled up on the ground and tried futilely to reach his hands around to claw at his back, and called him a baby.  Castiel was not a baby.  He was five years old.  The moment he got up and started moving towards the river, his pains vanished.  He had just removed his shoes and had one foot in the water when Anna spotted him from the kitchen window and ran out shouting, “Castiel, do NOT go in the river!”

Immediately, the compulsion to prove his ability vanished and Castiel looked down at the rapidly moving water in mild panic as he backed up quickly.  Anna had run over to him and swept him up in her arms.  He clung to her and happily took in the smell of gingerbread that always seemed to cling to her as she rounded on the older boys and scolded them for their thoughtlessness.  

That night, Anna and Lady Ellen sat down with Castiel to explain exactly what had happened when he was born.  Knowing didn’t change much really.  He found he couldn’t fight the spell, no matter how hard he tried.  As soon as he put any effort towards doing so, his shoulder blades began to throb in a white hot sensation until he wanted to do nothing but curl into a fetal position away from the pain.  The complaints stopped as soon as he gave in to whatever command was presented to him.  

Fortunately, he only had to obey a direct command.  Because of this, Lady Ellen often phrased what she wanted Castiel to do in the form of a request, “Castiel honey, would you please fetch me that platter?”  

Anna wasn’t always so considerate.  If Castiel dithered over eating his vegetables, she wouldn’t hesitate to command, “Castiel, you eat everything on your plate, you hear,” but she never made a command out of anything that wasn’t for Castiel’s own well being.  They never told Carver and Castiel was perfectly fine with that.  

The only time Castiel could remember his mother giving him a direct order was the night she told Cas the reason he always obeyed.  

“You must never tell anyone about this, Castiel.  You might be too young to understand now, but if others found out, they might try to use you.  To make you do  bad things.  You might hurt yourself or someone else.  You must never give someone that much control over you.”  

Of course Castiel obeyed his mother.  In reality, he had no choice, but this was a command he would have obeyed anyway.  The memory of that rushing river was clear in his head, as were the pains he felt when he tried to fight the older boy’s demand.  At five, he couldn’t imagine why someone would want to make him hurt himself or someone else on purpose, but he also knew he didn’t want to find out.

Despite the blessing (curse), Castiel did his best to remain stubbornly independent, always trying to find his own way of doing things that was just a little off what all of his teachers and instructors wanted.  Castiel’s habit of staring people down to determine if they were trustworthy companions tended to dissuade many from becoming close to him, so there was very little chance of a friend learning about his _condition_ as he often thought of it.  He didn’t mind.  He wasn’t lonely.  

Until his mother fell ill.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though this has been fixed, I forgot to thank my two lovely betas for this project - lily (drownedinblissfulconfusion) and Michelle (shellygurumi) who were both a MAJOR help in getting me through this fic!

Lady Ellen died when Castiel was thirteen.  She had rapidly come down with a fever that had hit much of court, but was only severe in a few cases.  She had seemed well one day, and had promised to read to Castiel under their tree the next morning.  But when Cas woke up, she was gone.  He hadn’t even gotten a chance to say goodbye.  

After the funeral - _after he had met the prince_ \- Castiel had been inconsolable and refused all company except for that of Anna; preferring to hide in the kitchen rather than making pleasantries amongst people who called his mother “beautiful,” and “charming,” and “an excellent dancer.”  She was all those things, but she had been so much more.  She had been the storyteller his father would never be.  She had been kind, and funny and smart.  You didn’t cross her or anyone she loved without feeling the barb of her tongue.  On one of Castiel’s rare visits to court, Captain Singer, had confided to him that most of the men of the court were equally terrified and in love with her.  They all knew she was more than capable of taking them down a peg.  Most were also secretly in awe of her ability to drink them under the table without flinching.  

Those people didn’t know his mother, they only thought they did.  So he stayed with Anna, possibly the one person just as grief stricken as himself.  

“Mother once told me I have a guardian angel,” Castiel said, staring down at the table morosely.  “She said she’d tell me who it was when I was older.  I don’t suppose I’ll ever know now.”  

“Stir this, Castiel, don’t just sit there and mope.”  Anna wiped a tear from her face with her apron.  Her red hair was streaked white with flour.  Despite being in mourning herself, Anna still needed to cook for the guests out front.  

Cas looked down into the bowl and saw the filling for an apple pie.  He didn’t want to stir.  He didn’t want to do anything.  But Anna had commanded it and it wasn’t long before he felt the familiar twinge in his shoulder blades, pushing his arms to move and act.  

Sighing, he picked up the spoon and started to stir.  

“You do have a guardian angel, Castiel.  She is always watching over you, as she watched over your mother.”  

“Why didn’t she save my mother then?”

Anna sighed, looking down at her hands as they kneaded the dough that would become the crust for the pie.  “There are some things even an angel doesn’t have the power to fix.  There are some things, only God has control over.”

Castiel frowned.  “I thought God was gone.  That’s why the angels are in Fell instead of their own country.”  

“God may be missing, but that doesn’t mean he’s gone.  All angels must have faith in this.  Otherwise, why are they here?  What is their purpose?  God sent them forth as punishment for their own vanity; set them as guardians over humans as their penance.  If angels do well, and serve God’s plan, perhaps they will one day be allowed to return.  They have waited ages.  Angels are immortal after all.  If they don’t have faith in that chance, if they can’t break that curse, then what hope is there?”

Castiel looked up at Anna sharply when she spoke of breaking the angelic curse.  “Do you think I can break my curse?”  

Anna looked at him sadly.  “I don’t know,” she said, and Castiel hated her honesty in that moment.  

“Maybe I can find Naomi one day and talk to her.  Tell her how horrible it really is to be obedient all the time.  Maybe she’ll understand and take the curse away for me.”

Anna shook her head.  “The curse was very big magic.  And applied directly to a human.  Except for minor healings - a sore throat, a scrape here or there - angels aren’t supposed to apply magic directly to a human.  It’s their greatest taboo.  To remove the curse would be equally large magic.”  

Castiel looked down and pretended a tear did not drop into the mix he was stirring.  

 

* * *

 

It would be more than a year before he saw Prince Dean again.  

Castiel generally avoided interacting with other people as a rule.  The less he interacted with them, the less likely someone would find out his secret.  There were certain occasions, though, that demanded action.  

He had gone to the market with instructions from Anna to bring home supplies she would need for dinner.  Really, she just wanted to get him out of the house.  His father was gone again on some trek for inspiration.  After Lady Ellen’s death, he had taken to making such trips frequently and was rarely home for more than a week at a time.  Castiel didn’t mind.  He and his father rarely saw eye to eye.  

On Castiel’s way home, he heard shouting on the other side of a narrow alleyway.  

“Pick it up!” someone shouted.  

Castiel frowned. He hated when people ordered others around.  Particularly when those orders were clearly not being given with respect.  He set down his bag, moving into the passage and sticking to the shadows as he observed the scene before him.  

A smaller boy had his head bowed as he was on his knees righting a basket of spilled apples and reaching to pick up its spilled contents.  There were two larger boys flanking him.  As the smaller boy placed the apples back in the basket, one of the boys laughed mirthlessly and kicked the basket over again.  

“You klutz!  Look what you did!  Pick them up you idiot!”

The boy on the ground looked close to tears and Castiel had seen enough.  He stepped forward, ignoring his gut as it warned him about getting involved and regretting the consequences.  

“Leave him alone,” Castiel growled, grateful that his voice had dropped several months ago.  The command was far more impressive than the high pitched squeak it would have been even a season past.  

The two bullies turned.  One laughed and tilted his chin in Castiel’s direction as he looked towards his friend.  “Look what we have here Uriel.  A little hero.”

The one called Uriel turned.  He was tall and dark skinned with a smile that didn’t come close to reaching his stone-hard eyes.  

“Back off, brat.  This isn’t your problem.”

It was an order, but Castiel only had to obey the words, not the intent.  He backed away from Uriel, but in doing so, positioned himself more solidly in front of the smaller boy on the ground.  

Uriel’s grin turned feral.  “Looks like this one fancies himself not just a hero, but a warrior, Zachariah.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and assessed his opponents.  Both were older than he was and several inches taller.  Uriel was wound tight, his muscles clearly straining towards the fight, the look on his face one of clear anticipation at the chance to cause pain.  Zachariah, on the the other hand, looked calm and almost bored with the proceedings.  He smiled beatifically at Castiel.  The curve of his mouth reminded Castiel of a snake luring its prey in.  He would need to keep a close eye on Zachariah.  He was likely to be more dangerous than Uriel.  

He did not doubt both boys were able fighters and their size and number gave them an apparent advantage.  Castiel wasn’t concerned.  So long as they didn’t order him to do something.  

Uriel swung the first punch.  Castiel was ready.  He brought his hand up and caught Uriel’s fist in his open palm.  The move surprised Uriel, causing him to hesitate.  Castiel used the pause to mutter at the boy behind him, “I suggest you take this opportunity to run.”

Fortunately, the boy listened and Castiel was able to return his focus to the fight in time to dodge Uriel’s free fist.  He still felt the brush of knuckles against the top of his head as he ducked down.  Castiel moved quickly, using his own momentum to step behind Uriel, bringing the older boy’s fist with him, twisting it behind Uriel’s back.  

Castiel might be smaller, but that meant he was also lighter on his feet.  He used this to his advantage as he moved to prevent Uriel from turning to face him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched for any signs of movement from Zachariah.  So far, it seemed, he was content to observe with a small look of amusement on his face with no intention of intervening.  That suited Castiel, but he needed to take care of Uriel before Zachariah changed his mind.  

Castiel took a moment to test Uriel’s posture as they danced around each other in a tight circle, with Uriel trying to throw his opponent off.  Lips thinning with decision, Castiel lifted his foot and kicked in the back of Uriel’s left knee, which he determined to be the weaker of the two.  Instantly, Uriel crumpled to his knees with a sharp cry.  Castiel pushed him to the ground, knowing he was currently incapacitated.  He quickly spun to Zachariah who was no longer smiling.

Zachariah moved forward, more slowly calculating than Uriel had.  Cas moved to the balls of his feet, prepared to dodge in any direction needed to avoid this new threat.  Castiel wished he had a weapon.  He was far more proficient with a blade of any kind than he was with his fists.  He had stepped into this fight though, and he would finish it.

Zachariah did not strike immediately however.  He circled instead, forcing Castiel to turn as well to keep an eye on him.  Castiel wasn’t sure what the endgame might be, but he would not be baited into making the first move.  Anna might constantly chide him for being headstrong, but she had never accused him of being rash.  

“ _Stop_!” The command came loud and clear from behind Castiel.  Whether it was intended for him or not, he didn’t know, but regardless, he could not fight anymore.  Not without the curse complaints kicking in.  His forced his body to relax while every part of his mind screamed, _no, this is dangerous_!

Because the command was so vague, Cas couldn’t even turn to see who had issued it.  He felt somewhat more confident when he saw Zachariah hiss in displeasure.  

“Two against one, huh?” the voice behind Castiel asked.  The tone was familiar.  Castiel was sure he had heard it before, but couldn’t place it without seeing the face it belonged to.  

“Doesn’t seem like a fair fight to me.  Kinda why I held back - looked like you two were way outmatched.  Cas here could have handled you both easy if you didn’t play dirty.”

_Cas_? Nobody called him Cas.  Who was this stranger?  

“Cas, you ok?  Hey man, look at me for a sec.”

Castiel could move again.  He turned to face his benefactor and drew up short.   _Dean_.  He looked at the prince for precisely a second before averting his gaze.  When he did, he realized Uriel was back up on his feet.  There was a blade on the ground in front of him and he was currently detained by a guard.  

That was why Dean had stepped in, Uriel must have been about to attack from behind with a weapon.  Zachariah had intentionally been maneuvering Cas so his back was to the real threat.  He cursed himself for a fool for not realizing it sooner.  

“Hey, Cas, what’s wrong? Did you get hurt in the fight? I didn’t see them land anything on you - I would have stepped in sooner if they had.”

Castiel looked up again.  “No, thank you, Your -,” protocol dictated he refer to the prince as Your Highness.  There were others around - including part of the royal guard.  But the prince had told Castiel to call him by his given name.  Even if the order had been given over a year ago, it had never been countermanded.  Already Castiel could feel the curse complaints starting.  

Fortunately, Dean held up his hand with a smile on his face.  “I told you before, don’t call me Your Highness.”

Castiel smiled a genuine smile for the first time as he looked at Dean.  “Thank you, Dean.  How did you know we were down here at all?”  

“Right place at the right time.  We were coming down the road when,” Dean jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards someone still hiding in the alley, “he came tearing out of nowhere begging for help. I came expecting a real fight, but you had them pretty well in hand.”  Dean looked impressed.  Part of Castiel was embarrassed, but another part of him glowed with pride.

To mask both reactions, he looked more closely to the figure in the alleyway.  It was the young boy Uriel and Zachariah had taken to bullying.  Dean noticed the direction of Castiel’s attention and waved the boy over.  “What’s your name, kid?”

The younger boy looked up at the prince nervously, “Samandriel, Your Highness.”  He turned his gaze back to Castiel, his eyes conveyed a gratitude that made Castiel slightly uncomfortable.  “Thank you.  They’ve bullied me before.  If I didn’t get these apples home, I’d have been in a lot of trouble.  You have a lot of heart, stepping in the way you did.”  

“You’re welcome.  It wasn’t much.  I just really don’t like bullies.  I don’t think people have a right to order other people around just because they can,” Castiel replied, trying to deflect the admiration Samandriel seemed to place on him.  

Then he realized what he had said and looked quickly at Dean.  It was rather ridiculous to comment on the unfairness of giving orders in the presence of a future king.  Dean just smiled though and Castiel sighed, happy the prince hadn’t taken offense.  

“All right, Samandriel.  Why don’t you go ahead and get those apples home.  Rufus, will you see that these, _gentlemen_ , are seen to properly?”  

“I certainly will, Your Highness.  Will you be continuing on then?” He didn’t look overly pleased at the thought of the prince going unescorted.    

“That depends.”  Dean turned to grin at Castiel.  “Do you mind my company for a while?”

Castiel felt a flare of happiness inside him followed by one of confusion.  Why would the prince want his company?  He gave a mental shrug.  He wouldn’t know until he had spent time with him, and Castiel enjoyed the prince’s presence.  He had a lightness to him, and his eyes promised a quick and ready laugh.  Castiel rarely spent time with others beyond the household staff, especially those close to his own age.  Despite his usual reticence at the thought, Castiel found he _wanted_ to be friends with Dean.  

“Not at all, Dean.”  

Dean’s grin broadened at Castiel’s use of his given name and he winked as he turned to Rufus, saying, “Well, you have your answer.  I’ll see you back at the palace later this afternoon.”  

“Yes sir!” Rufus said, leading Uriel and Zachariah away.  Samandriel followed with his basket, glancing back shyly once more to wave at Castiel.  

“I think you made a new friend today, Cas,” Dean said grinning.  

Castiel found he liked the nickname.  

“So, where did you learn to fight like that?” Dean asked, leaning back against one of the walls of the building behind him, clearly not in a hurry to go anywhere in particular.  

Castiel took his cue from the prince and sat down on the top of a barrel lining the adjacent wall.  “My mother made sure I would know how to fight,” Castiel began.  “She hoped I might one day join the Hunters.”

The Hunters were the warriors that guarded travelers through the kingdom.  There were many dangerous creatures that made moving between the cities unsafe.  Wendigos, djinn, willowisps, and hellhounds, amongst others, all populated the woods and empty spaces between waiting for the unwary.  Hunters were the elite, the guardians.  They were the highest class warriors in the kingdom.  Most strove to join their ranks but few actually achieved it.  Lady Ellen had begun training Castiel shortly after his sixth birthday.  She herself was an able fighter and was his first teacher.  

Dean nodded at Castiel’s revelation and to Castiel’s relief, he didn’t laugh.  “Do you still want to?” He asked, curiosity evident in his voice.  

Castiel nodded.  “I would like to.  Though I’m not sure I’ll be able to now.  I haven’t had a proper instructor for almost a year.  I’ve continued my training, but I’ve worked alone.”

Dean frowned, “Why?  What happened?”

Castiel looked down, embarrassed.  Most of their wealth had been his mother’s.  She had managed the family books meticulously while she was alive, always keeping his father’s wanderings in check.  Without her, his father had no sense of economy and spent much of their small fortune on “research” trips.  It hadn’t been long before they could no longer afford to keep an instructor.  

“It wasn’t practical after my mother passed away,” he said simply, not wanting to go into the family details.  

“You know, we always have extra space in our practice yards.  Some of those moves I saw you using today...I’d love to learn a few myself.  After all, I’m supposed to join the Hunters too.”  

It was true, When Dean turned eighteen - another two years by Castiel’s reckoning - he would not only join the Hunters, but lead them.  Prince Sam would do the same four years later, dividing the responsibility between the brothers.  In many kingdoms, including the neighboring kingdom of Hellia, the royal family did not participate in the direct protection of the people.  They weren’t expected to become soldiers.  But members of the Winchester line saw it as a duty, a family business, to hunt things and keep the people of the kingdom safe.  Dean was still looking at him and Castiel realized he was supposed to understand something more from the previous statement.  When Castiel didn’t speak, Dean pushed further. “You’re always welcome to come practice with us.”

Castiel looked at Dean, surprise warring with delight.  

“I would like that very much, thank you Dean.”

Dean nodded as though that settled everything.  “Perfect, the Captain expects everyone on the field at nine am sharp - will you be there tomorrow?”

It wasn’t an order, but Castiel would still be there.  He would make sure Anna would not need him for anything in the mornings for the foreseeable future.  

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to clotpoleofthelord for the lovely art!

When Castiel arrived home from the market, he was surprised to find his father in his study.  For the past two weeks, Carver had been on one of his “inspirational rambles.”  Cas mentally applied quotations to the term as he rolled his eyes.  His father was rarely inspired.  That he was home a week sooner than expected, however, was curious.  

“Ah! Castiel.  Yes, yes come in.”  His father smiled at him.  It was a small, nervous thing, even with no one but his own son present.  “I have news that I feel you should know.”  

Castiel frowned.  Carver rarely interacted with him.  He never shared anything substantial about his writing and had shown no interest in having Castiel follow in his footsteps.  What could Carver have to tell him now?

“I’m sure, Castiel, that you’ve realized that life in our home has not been as...comfortable...these last few months as you might be accustomed.”  Castiel waited, refusing to acknowledge the obvious and wanting to hear his father’s solution to his own lack of economy.  

When it became clear Castiel wasn’t going to respond, Carver cleared his throat and continued.  “Yes, well, you see, the truth is, son, we’re facing destitution.  There is very little money left and there won’t be any more forthcoming from your mother’s estate unless one of two things happens.  Either I write an instant bestseller, or I remarry another member of the nobility.”

Castiel instantly stilled and he narrowed his eyes at his father, waiting to see where this conversation would lead.  

“As much as it pains me to admit, I am currently without a muse.  My stories...my stories come to me from Heaven, but at the moment, God has nothing for me to say.”  Castiel bit back a sarcastic remark as he waited for his father to continue.  Carver did so, blithely unaware of his son’s irritation. “I have been left with no choice other than to find a new bride.  I think you will approve of my choice.  She has two sons, so you’ll have company now.”

Castiel jumped up and looked at his father in horror.  “You’ve already chosen someone?  Without discussing it with me?”  

“Well, I hardly think it affects you.  After all, _I_ will be the one married to her.  If you were even a year older, I could find someone for you and I wouldn’t have to deal with this at all.  You know I’m not fond of socializing.  I assure you, this will be far more trying for me than for you.”  

Castiel had rarely felt so furious.  “And when will this wedding take place?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“In approximately six months time.  The proper waiting period should be a full year, but then, our circumstances are rather dire.  In the meantime, Dame Lilith has suggested, and I quite agree, that you and her sons would benefit from getting to know each other by attending Purgatory.”

That made Castiel blink.  Purgatory was one of the most prestigious training schools in the kingdom.  It’s border position placed it adjacent to Hellia, which meant there were frequent clashes with raiding parties.  It was considered good practice at survival.  A week ago, Castiel would have jumped at such a chance.  Now, he had been offered the opportunity to train at the castle with Dean and he knew which he would prefer.  

“Father, can’t I stay and train here in the city?”

For the first time, Carver’s eyes hardened.  “No, Castiel.  We can’t be ungrateful.  This is a rare and marvelous opportunity Dame Lilith is giving you.  She will be funding you, along with her own sons, Michael and Lucifer.  You will show nothing but respect when you meet her.”

Castiel felt his stomach sink at the order.  He would simply have to tell Dean in the morning that he wouldn’t be able to train with him.  He turned to leave, his shoulders slumped in dejection, when Carver spoke again.

“I already have Anna packing your things.  The carriage will arrive with Dame Lilith and her sons tomorrow.  She will stay here and begin preparations for the wedding and you will join Michael and Lucifer as they continue on to Purgatory.”

As Castiel tensed, he could feel the pains starting in his back.  He hadn’t even realized he had already internalized the intention to disobey until the stabbing sensation grew more pronounced and he knew he would have no choice.  He wouldn’t even have the chance to say goodbye or explain to Dean.  

Dame Lilith, Michael and Lucifer might have been coming for a wedding, but Castiel felt they might as well be bringing the apocalypse.  

 

* * *

 

“Anna, this isn’t fair.  I wouldn’t even go if it weren’t for the curse. Or at the least I could leave this house and go where I wanted for a change.”

Anna _tsked_ as she continued to pack his trunk.  “Castiel, I think you’re being a little overly dramatic.  Remember, this is one of the best training schools in the kingdom.  No, it isn’t ideal that you have to go with Michael and Lucifer.  But you haven’t even met them yet.  Perhaps they won’t be so bad…”

Castiel shot a glare in Anna’s direction that could have turned even an angel into a statue.  “Anyone willing to marry Chuck -”

 “Don’t refer to your father in such a way Castiel,” Anna interrupted, “it’s bad manners and shows poor upbringing.  If you aren’t going to call him ‘Father’ then you should at least call him by his proper name.”

Castiel’s mouth snapped shut and he crossed his arms over his chest.  

“Now, there’s nothing you can do about going, but I would like to give you something to take with you that might help you a bit more along your way.”  

Castiel softened his stance and shifted as Anna sat on the bed and looked at him expectantly.  He rolled his eyes and sat down in the chair by the window.  “So what can help me?”

“Knowledge.”

Castiel snorted.  The response was very typically Anna - but what could she tell him about training that he didn’t already know?

“Not the kind you might expect, Castiel. Right after your mother died, you told me you supposed you would never know who your guardian angel was.”

Castiel immediately perked up.  “You know?  You’re going to tell me who my angel is?”

“I am.”

Castiel waited, but Anna continued to stare at him serenely.  “Well?” he frowned, “who is it?”

“ _I_ am, Castiel.  I am your guardian angel.  As I was your mother’s guardian angel before you.”

Castiel’s mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.  

“And _you_ , Castiel, are the descendant of angels.  There is a tiny drop of Nephilim in you.  When the angels came to Fell, a few chose to abandon their immortality in favor of living a life with a mortal partner.”

“So does that mean I have angelic powers?”

“No, but that drop of angelic blood does give you a slim hope, Castiel.  Without it, I don’t think there would be any way that you would be able to break Naomi’s blessing on your own.  With it though, you have a chance.  You might just be strong enough one day to destroy the curse.”

Castiel looked down at his hands and flexed his fingers.  He thought the knowledge would make him feel different.  It didn’t.  Instead, it only made him more frustrated that he still didn’t have a clue how to break the curse.  

“There’s one more thing I would like to give you before you go.  Again, I promised you knowledge.  I’ve given you knowledge about yourself.  Now I will give you knowledge about the world.”

Reaching under the pillow, Anna pulled out a large book.  She held the cover to her chest as she looked at Castiel imploringly.  

“Castiel.  Please understand this book is very precious to me.  You are not the only one who has suffered the effects of a blessing by Naomi.”  Anna took a deep breath.  “As you know, angels are immortal.  We can choose, as some did in the beginning, to give up our Grace, to live like mortals, with a mortal life span.  At one time, this was what I desired as well.  I met a man that I fell in love with and had agreed to marry.  But Naomi thought mortality was...depressing.  She didn’t wish a limited lifetime on anyone - particularly one immortal by birth.  Her blessing to my beloved was eternal life.  The method she used, was to bind him to this book.”  

Anna slowly turned the book around and Castiel jumped back as a face appeared on the front of the well cared for tome.  

“Castiel, meet Benny.”  

“‘Hey there, kiddo,’” the face in the book said with a slow drawl.  

Castiel stepped forward again cautiously before looking up at Anna for confirmation at what he was seeing.  

“Um, hello?” Castiel responded, somewhat unsure.  

“I have to say, it’s mighty nice to finally meet you, Castiel,” the face in the book said. “I haven’t had too many introductions over the past several hundred years, as you might understand.  Last introduction I had was to your lovely mother, the Lady Ellen.  I’m real sorry that she passed.  She was quite the gentlewoman.”  

Castiel frowned, not in anger, but in concentration.  He nodded, distantly acknowledging the words, but wanting to keep the memory of his mother’s death separate.  He examined the cover of the book intently.  The surface itself was flat, but there was an oval plate on the front that suggested depth.  Benny’s face appeared within the plate, fully formed and three dimensional, as though Castiel could reach into the cover and touch it.  

Curiously, he opened the cover of the book as it - he - still lay in Anna’s hands.  There was no additional panel to supplement the depth behind.  Inside, the book looked just like any other book.  

Castiel was glad Anna had decided to tell him about Benny; after all, she was the closest member of his family he still had, even if she was not related by blood.  Though, Castiel supposed, perhaps she was, if distantly.  He wasn’t quite sure how knowing about Anna’s bound fiance would be of use to him though.  

Anna seemed to read his mind.  “I want you to take him with you.  He’s far more useful than he looks you know.”

“Thank you, darlin’,” Benny said, rolling his eyes, ”I’ll try not to take offense to that.”  

“Oh hush, Benny, you know what I mean.”  Anna looked at Castiel and winked, “Too many people in the past have just judged him by his cover you know.”

With that, she opened the book carefully to a random page near the beginning.  “The pages will change depending on what you need.  You might find a map, or illustrated instructions for a maneuver you have trouble with in training.  I will be able to send you letters this way as well.”  

Castiel’s eyes widened as he realized the implication of what Anna was giving him.  This truly was a gift of knowledge.  

“Is this all stuff Benny knows?”

“You can talk directly to him you know,” Anna said, raising her eyebrow archly.  Castiel blushed slightly at the chastisement.

“Sorry, Benny.  I’m not used to talking to a book.  None of the ones I’ve met before have had intelligence.”  

“All books have intelligence.  Every one of them will give you something you didn’t know before.  Even if it’s just a nugget.  I’ll grant you though that I’m probably the only book that can think for itself.”  

“Right.  So then, Benny, are these all the things you already know?”

“No, and sadly enough for me, I don’t rightly know what necessarily goes through all my pages unless the reader tells me.  So any letters from Anna, or anything else that you might read will stay private unless you tell me.  Likewise, you can ask for something, and I can usually provide it, but I can’t necessarily tell you m’self, you see.”  

Castiel nodded, grateful to know his correspondence would remain private.  A thought occurred to him then.

“Anna, if I write in Benny will you get the letters back?  Or will I need to send them through the regular post?” Belatedly, Castiel realized he was basically also asking for permission alter a sentient being.  

“Benny, if I write in you, will it be permanent?  Or will it only last as long as I need it to and then fade like the other entries?”  
Anna smiled, “You’re catching on.  Yes, you can write in him without causing any damage and I’ll receive your letters.  It’s one reason why I want you to take Benny with you.  I took a page from the book.  Since it still carries the same enchantment, whatever you write will appear on my page, and what I write back will appear in the book.  This will allow us to communicate without a chance of your father or Lady Lilith intercepting the letters until we have the opportunity to learn more about the situation and _her_ intentions in this marriage.  When your mother married Carver, he was a very different man.  I wonder at a woman who would choose to make such match now, particularly considering the woeful position the estate is in.  I can’t see an advantage for her in such a move.”

Castiel stayed silent, having nothing to say in his father’s defense.  Anna had expressed her displeasure in his father before, but never so abruptly or openly.  

Anna sighed.  “You should probably go to sleep.  You have a long trip ahead of you and you have your new brothers to meet tomorrow as well.”

Castiel tensed and looked down, but nodded.  His stomach filling with an anxious dread.  He wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow.  

 

* * *

 

Castiel did not sleep well that night, but he hardly expected to.  Benny was packed in his trunk.  He would have preferred having the book with him, but he didn’t want to reveal its existence - even if Benny refrained from appearing on the cover - until he had a better idea of who his new brothers were.  

He was awake and dressed well before the sun was fully over the horizon.  Typically, Castiel preferred sleeping in.  Anna often had to physically pull the sheets from over his head to rouse him from his bed.  This morning however, nerves had him up and about long before his usual hour.  

Anna bustled around him in the kitchen, an early riser by necessity.  She plopped a warm, thick slice of fresh bread in front of him with a generous pat of butter on the side of his plate.  Castiel picked at the crust, but found he wasn’t really hungry.  

“Eat, Castiel.”  

Castiel groaned inwardly.  He knew he would regret it later if he didn’t eat now, so he should probably be grateful to Anna for the command, but at the moment, he just resented the forced requirement.  

Anna’s eyes softened.  I’m sorry, Castiel.  I know you don’t want to go.  Trust me.  I don’t want you to go either.  It’s not really going to feel like home without you here.  But remember, you can always get word to me through Benny.  Anything you send I will have within an hour of you closing the book.  If you need _anything_ , let me know.”

She smiled, “And remember, the wedding is just six months away.  You won’t really be gone all that long.  Before you know it, you’ll be home.  Maybe then, your father will let you stay.”  

Castiel doubted it, but he decided not to argue.  

An hour later, a large, garishly bedecked carriage pulled up short just outside the house.  The first to step out was a slender, striking woman with blonde hair in loose curls that framed her face.  Her eyes were wide set and held an intriguing, but certainly not unattractive tilt.  There was no warmth in her face, though, as she surveyed the building in front of her.  

Behind her came two boys.  The taller and clearly older boy - whom Castiel assumed was Michael based on the brief description his father had provided that morning - had dark hair, thick eyebrows and a handsome, but haughty expression on his face.  He stood ramrod straight and made it a point to look down at Castiel, even though Michael was not that much taller than him.  

The second boy was shorter, with blonde hair.  His brow was furrowed and his lower lip stuck out, giving him a perpetually petulant look.  Castiel angled his head as he assessed the younger brother.  He suspected that Lucifer might be able to make quite a pest of himself if he so chose. Where Michael clearly strove to appear more mature than his age, Lucifer seemed to give off an air of “play with me, or I will make myself annoying.”

Castiel sighed internally.  This would be interesting to say the very least.  Carver stepped forward, smiling graciously at Dame Lilith.  

“Welcome, my dear, to your future home!” he gestured behind him grandly.  Castiel thought his father was laying it on rather thickly.  After all, their home, while not modest, was certainly not the largest estate in the kingdom.  This was now to their benefit as a larger household would have brought them to ruin that much faster.  

Dame Lilith seemed to agree with Castiel, however, while he saw his home as warm, inviting, and comfortable, she seemed to find the estate extremely lacking. “I thought you said your first wife was Lady Ellen?”

Castiel frowned at both the tone and this woman’s presumption to bring up his mother in her first sentence within his hearing.  

“She was,” Carver confirmed.

“I was under the impression she was more highly titled than this...cottage...would suggest.”  

“She was a Marchioness through her father’s estate, but she preferred a more humble setting for her own home.”

Lilith simply sniffed and turned back to inspect the house.  “Yes, well, I supposed it will have to do - for now.” Castiel wondered at the implication in her voice.  This woman was clearly a schemer, but he couldn’t discern what her plans might be.  He thought back to his conversation the evening before with Anna.  What were her motivations in marrying his father?  

He would have no opportunity to study her to find out.  A footman had already loaded his trunk onto the back of the carriage and lashed it securely in place.  Carver seemed to notice this too as he glanced hastily between Castiel, Lilith and her sons.  

“Oh dear, it seems the carriage is ready to go.  Dame Lilith, please allow me to present my son Castiel.  We are _both_ ,” Carver cast a stern look at Castiel, “very grateful for your insistence that Castiel attend Purgatory with Michael and Lucifer.  I believe his mother gave him some rudimentary lessons in his youth.”  

Castiel bristled at the term “rudimentary.”  He thought back to Dean’s compliments on his fighting style and skill.  How little his father knew him.  

Lilith turned her gaze on Castiel.  Her eyes were shrewd and calculating.  Castiel was sure he was not imagining that she seemed to be sizing him up as though trying to figure out how best he might fit into her plan - whatever it might be.  

“Yes, well, there will be so much to do here at the...estate...Castiel might be made to feel in the way.  We can’t have that in his own home.  Michael and Lucifer have been training their whole lives.  I’m sure they will be happy to aide Castiel in whatever way they deem necessary.  Both my boys will undoubtedly become Hunters as soon as they are of age.”

Carver inclined his head with a small smile on his lips.  “I’m sure they shall.  Now, I do believe we should let the carriage move along.  The boys will have plenty of time to get to know each other on the trip to school.”

Castiel could tell his father did not intend to give him a personal goodbye, nor did he find he much cared.  However, he refused to leave without giving Anna a proper farewell.  He turned to find her standing slightly to the side in the frame of the door.  When he caught her eye, she opened her arms to fold him into a hug.  He heard a small sniffle as she gave him one more squeeze before pulling away.  He knew his eyes were over-bright to match hers with their unfallen tears.  This, this was his family.  

“Remember,” Anna told him, her voice pitched low so as not to carry, “if you need anything, you can write it in Benny and I’ll get the message.”  

“Come along, Castiel,” his father called, his voice lined with impatience and a small level of embarrassment over Castiel’s perceived dawdling.  

Castiel turned and walked to the carriage before the curse could force him to.  Michael and Lucifer were already inside, their additional luggage taking up so much room that Castiel was forced to squeeze in by the window with very little space to maneuver.  He tried to shift to a comfortable angle - their first stop would not be for at least four hours.  Castiel stared morosely at his home, which he would not see again for six months.   

As the carriage pulled away, he resolutely ignored the fact that Michael and Lucifer were watching him closely.  He had no desire to get to know these soon-to-be brothers of his.  Instead, he let his thoughts turn to Dean.  Would his friend - and he was sure the prince considered him to be a friend - be upset that he had gone?  Would he be angry that Castiel had not bothered to say goodbye?  He hoped not and resolved to write Dean an explanation for his sudden absence at his earliest convenience.  

“Were you really hugging the _cook_ goodbye?” It was Lucifer that had spoken.  His voice held clear disgust, but also a tone that seemed as though he was fascinated by Castiel.  Castiel was at a loss to understand why.  

“Yes.  Anna helped raise me.  She is a friend and I consider her family.  Why wouldn’t I say goodbye?”  Castiel genuinely didn’t understand their shock.  

Michael explained, seemingly irritated the answer wasn’t plainly obvious to Castiel.  “Servants are beneath us.  They are less worthy.  They might as well be animals or vermin.  It’s the reason the social order exists to begin with, because we are _better_ than them.”

Now it was Castiel’s turn to be shocked.  Never had he heard someone speak with such hate.  Even the bullies from his fight the previous day did not seem as cruel and derisive as the words Michael had just spoken.  But he had not finished.

“It is one of the reasons we will become Hunters.  As Hunters, we will have a direct connection to the Princes.  I know there is _much_ we can offer them.”  Michael looked smug as he concluded his speech, but Castiel just stared at him.  

“Have you ever _met_ the Princes?” he asked in disbelief.  He could not believe Dean, the friend he was really just starting to come to know, could ever want to align himself with the ideals Michael had just exhibited.  

“Not yet.  But that it hardly matters.  The Princes are well bred, I am sure they will see the potential in any form of partnership.  I, of course, will make myself indispensable to Dean, while Lucifer will tie himself to Sam.”

Castiel felt his mouth tighten.  Michael had no right, had not been given permission to speak Dean’s name so informally.  

“Well I _have_ met Dean.  I’m not sure he shares your...world views,” Castiel retorted, probably unwisely.  

Michael’s eyes narrowed.  “You’ve met the Prince?”

“On a few occasions,” Castiel hedged, regretting speaking so openly about knowing Dean.  He was sure Dean considered him a friend, but aside from Anna, Castiel had never really _had_ a friend.  He didn’t want to risk losing that because he had boasted imprudently.  Additionally, he had no intention of telling Michael that he had first met Dean at his mother’s funeral.  That moment was private enough because of his grief. The realization that he might have found something then as well as lost something was not an epiphany he wanted to share.  

“I hardly think ‘a few occasions’ renders you an expert.  I assure you, Dean will share my views.”

Castiel was suddenly angry at Michael’s presumption.  “Recall that Dean is a prince; if you want to be in his presence, you must _ask_.”

“I find I would prefer to make this trip in silence.  I wish you wouldn’t speak at least until we reach the first rest point.”  

Castiel bristled.  This wasn’t an order and he wasn’t done.  “Why do you want to be close to Dean anyway?  What purpose does it serve you?  You won’t gain control of the kingdom.  Neither Dean nor the King would be foolish enough to let you advise them.  The very people you look down on are the ones who support and love the royal family.  The King and his sons, along with the Hunters provide these people with protection _because_ they are so important.  Yet you think them less than you?  You are not worthy to clean their horses’ hooves.”   

“Castiel, be quiet.”

Castiel snapped his mouth shut, narrowing his eyes and jutting his lower jaw out in irritation.  He had gone to far.  He rarely had a temper, but when faced with an injustice, Castiel often found himself riled to a point past good judgement.  

Fortunately, Michael seemed satisfied with the sudden silence - at least the silence on Castiel’s part.  He himself continued to enumerate the ways in which he and Dean would ultimately see eye to eye.  

Castiel could not look at Michael or Lucifer, the latter of whom appeared bored at Michael’s incessant prattle as though he had heard it a thousand times before.  Instead, he stared out the window and tried to lose himself in the passing scenery, pretending it wasn’t taking him away from all the things most important to him.  


	4. Chapter 4

The trip was long and tedious.  Cas wasn’t released from Michael’s command of silence until supper when the server at the inn they stopped at demanded that he speak up if he expected to eat.  

Over the course of the ride, Castiel learned a great deal about his future family.  Michael was two years older than him, making him a year older than Dean.  Lucifer was five years Michael’s junior - the same age as Prince Sam.  For most of their lives Dame Lilith had molded and prepared her sons with the notion that they might one day stand next to the royal family, preferably through marriage.  On more than one occasion, Castiel waffled between repressing his laughter and pushing down his nausea at some of Michael and Lucifer’s more radical notions.  It almost sounded as if the brothers thought the angels had prophesied that Dean and Sam would belong to them.  

That was the biggest point that bothered Castiel.  The brothers truly thought of the princes as _belonging_ to them like they were mere possessions.   They cared nothing at all about the princes as human beings; to Michael and Lucifer, Sam and Dean were little more than their titles. It became clear very quickly that Michael saw not only the servants, but everyone, including the princes, as beneath him.  

Lucifer was somewhat harder to figure out, hiding behind a small, devilish grin.  He constantly tried to pick fights with Michael.  Castiel suspected much of what Lucifer said was not necessarily what he thought or believed, but rather designed to irritate his brother.  It wasn’t long before Castiel could feel the beginnings of a horrific migraine forming behind his left eye.  

He was exceedingly grateful when he finally retired for the night.  Fortunately, they had three separate rooms.  Though the expense was impractical, Castiel wasn’t sure all three of them would survive the night if they shared sleeping quarters.  

Alone at last, Castiel opened his trunk and pulled Benny out.  

“It’s ok, no one else is around,” Castiel said to the blank plate on the cover.  Almost immediately, Benny’s face appeared.   

“Thanks, kiddo.  It was rather stuffy in that trunk.  Can’t say the view was too great either.”

Castiel grimaced.  “Sorry, Benny.  I don’t think it’s a good idea to have you in Michael’s line of vision.  Even if you just appeared as a book, if he thinks you might be useful to him, he’ll demand I hand you over.  And Lucifer might want you just because Michael wants you.”  

Benny sighed.  “Oh well, guess it can’t really be helped.  I think Anna might have sent you a message.  I felt something come through.  Might be a couple other interesting tidbits in there too.  Never know what will show up in these pages.”  Benny winked from his cover, “I have hidden depths.”  

Castiel rolled his eyes as he opened to the center of the book.  He wondered how many horrid book related jokes Anna and Benny had come up with over the years.  

He flipped through several pages of maps illustrated with gorgeous, gilt wrought images of fantastical beasts in unknown lands, stories Castiel remembered from his childhood, and even a recipe for Castiel’s favorite corn bread before finding the letter in Anna’s distinctive tight, feminine handwriting.  

_Dear Castiel,_

_The house is lonely here without you.  Just a building, hardly a home.  There is no one for me to remind to eat their vegetables or to keep me company as I knead the bread.  I remind myself that you will be back soon - six months will seem like six days at the end of it - and this house will be a home again._

_You had a visitor shortly after you left.  Around noon, who should arrive at the door but the Crown Prince himself!  He asked where you were and if anything was wrong since you weren’t able to practice at the castle this morning as you had planned.  When I said your father had sent you to Purgatory for training, Dean seemed angry.  He said the moves he witnessed during your fight yesterday already exceeded the skill of most of the Purgatory instructors.  He wanted to know when you would return and I made sure to inform him of your father’s impending nuptials._

_He left a present for you, asking me to keep it safe.  It is a small sword. Longer than a dagger, with a rounded hilt.  I have taken a close look at the blade and can only conclude your prince is very fond of you, for it’s not an ordinary weapon.  This is an angel blade - one of those small objects created by angels and imbued with their strength.  The prince said your style yesterday seemed more inclined towards a weapon than fists.  By this I conclude several things.  First, Prince Dean is observant, having seen so much about you so quickly.  Second, he is smart, for he seems to have seen your worth almost instantly, where your father has clearly missed it for years._

_I will keep the sword safe for you.  It awaits your return, as do I._

_Love,_

_Anna_

 

Castiel smiled at the letter, particularly at the news that Dean had missed him.  He had wondered occasionally throughout the day if Dean would even remember his offer for Castiel to train at the palace.  Not only had he remembered, but he’d noticed Castiel’s absence and sought him out.  Had Dean intended to give Castiel the sword during the training that morning?  It was very likely.  He looked forward to seeing it and testing its weight and balance when he returned.  Despite Anna’s assurances the time would pass quickly, Castiel felt as though six months was an eternity.  

 

* * *

 

The next day proved just as trying in the carriage with Michael and Lucifer.  Castiel had learned his lesson the previous day and worked hard to not provoke either brother into giving him an order.  

He succeeded - until they stopped for the night.  Unlike at the last inn, there weren’t enough rooms for them to sleep separately.  The room they did get only had two beds and a straw mattress provided by the owner.   

“Castiel, you will sleep on that,” Michael said, indicating the bedding on the floor.  Castiel grimaced.  He hadn’t really expected a different outcome, but the order did not improve his outlook for the evening.  Once they had ensured their luggage was properly secured in the room, Michael, Lucifer and Castiel went down to the large common area below their accommodations to find dinner.  Castiel trailed behind, trying not to draw attention to himself.  He had already been given one order and Michael was clearly in a demanding mood.  Castiel wasn’t sure if it was in response to being trapped in a carriage for two days straight or if it had more to do with Michael’s general personality.  He suspected the later.

To Castiel’s dismay, when they reached the dining room and found a free table, Michael gave him another order.  The table was small and rectangular.  Because of it’s positioning, one chair was uncomfortably close to the fire while the other two seats were at a distance that would provide the diner with warmth and ambiance without threatening to scorch their skin.  

Castiel moved towards the chair furthest from the fire.  Michael saw Castiel’s intent and immediately shook his head.  “No, Castiel, you will sit here,” said Michael, pointing to the chair closest to the radiating heat.  Castiel had already lowered himself halfway into his chosen seat when Michael finished the order.  He bit back a sigh, but didn’t bother arguing as he stood back up and moved around to new seat.  

Michael’s face briefly registered surprise at Castiel’s lack of resistance.  There wasn’t much point.  Castiel was already sore from his cramped position in the carriage.  If he wasted moments trying to fight the curse, he would wind up with a lingering tension in his shoulders from the curse complaints.  

The evening only deteriorated from there.  Michael was convinced his drink was too warm and demanded Castiel switch with him.  He ordered for all three when the waiter came around - steak for himself, pot roast for Lucifer and chicken for Castiel.  Castiel glanced over at Lucifer, hoping he would make some kind of demand that they be allowed to order their own food, but Lucifer wore a look that said he was clearly too bored to be bothered.  

As they were standing to leave, Michael bumped into the table in a move that looked suspiciously deliberate.  The action caused one of the mugs to fall to the earthen floor.  “Pick that up, Castiel.”  

There had been so many orders that evening that Castiel was weary and bent down on instinct, without hesitation.  When he stood up, he thought he saw a smirk on Michael’s face.  A feeling of unease bloomed bright in his stomach and moved with him as they made their way back to their room.  

“Castiel, shut the door,” Michael said as soon as all three of them were inside.  

Castiel suppressed a groan.  Damn.  Michael had figured it out.  No one had ever figured out the curse before.  Castiel felt dread seep through his veins as he watched Michael warily.  What would his almost-brother choose to make him do?  What choice would he take away from Castiel?  

“Our new brother here has a secret, Lucifer.”  

Lucifer perked up.  The smugness in Michael’s voice was clear and it perked Lucifer up.  Likely, Castiel thought, because he saw it as a gateway to cause extreme annoyance.  “Oh yeah?  What’s that, Michael?”

“Unless I’m very much mistaken,” his tone indicating he knew he wasn’t, “Little Castiella here has to do everything we tell him to.”  

“ _Reeaally?_ ” Lucifer drew out the word as a look of fiendish delight stole over his face.  “Will you hop up and down?”

Castiel stayed put.  He didn’t open his mouth; he would give them no indication they were getting under his skin or riling him in any way.  

“So it doesn’t work when something’s posed as a question, I see,” Michael mused.  “That’s good to know.” He shot a smile over to Lucifer before issuing the command.  “Jump up and down, Castiel.”  

Castiel gritted his teeth, but did as he was bidden.  

Michael’s grin widened.  “Oh yes.  Training will be very interesting indeed.  You, Castiel, will serve as my squire.  Any chores that need to be done, you will complete them for me.  Any equipment that requires cleaning, you will clean for me.  And you will do a complete and proper job and tell no one that you are the one doing them.  Do you understand?”

Castiel glared at Michel, but didn’t respond.

“You will answer my question.”

“I understand,” Castiel ground out, already trying to decide ways to get around the orders.  If he could find loopholes, he would use that to his advantage.  Lucifer wasn’t the only one that could make a pest of himself.

 

* * *

 

Castiel was tested the very next morning.  

The three of them had woken early to ready their trunks and head down to breakfast.  

“Castiel, you won’t be coming down with us.  I don’t feel like your company this morning.  Instead, Lucifer and I will go eat and you will pack our trunks for us.”

Castiel glared as he nodded.  He wondered if Anna had packed any snacks in his trunk or if he would be forced to skip breakfast entirely.  

As soon as the door closed, Castiel stepped over to it and turned the lock.  Moving over to his trunk, he opened the lid and dug down under the top layer to pull Benny out.  When his face appeared in the book, Benny’s lips were tight and turned down a the edges.  

“I take it you heard that then?” Castiel asked resignedly.

“I sure did,” Benny said, anger clearly lining his voice.  

“Not much I can do about it though,” Castiel said, shrugging.  “I don’t have to do exactly what Michael expects though.  Just what he says.”  Castiel flashed Benny a grin.  “For example, he told me to pack their trunks.  He didn’t specify whose belongings went into whose trunk.”

Benny let out a bark of laughter.  “I like you, kiddo.  You’re not bad.  ‘Course, Anna’s been telling me that for years.  Just glad to finally get to see it in action.”  

Both Castiel and Benny saddened a little at the thought of Anna.  In some small way, it was a comfort to know they both missed her.   _Misery loves company_ , Castiel reflected before giving himself a mental shake.  He wanted to have a chance to write Anna back before Michael and Lucifer returned.  He also hoped to have time to look through Benny’s pages to see what might show up.  He was especially sure he couldn’t have Benny out around Michael now that Michael had discovered his secret.  

He looked around the room.  They had only stayed one night, but there was still plenty that had been spread around the room.  He left his own trunk for last and concentrated on Michael and Lucifer.  The way they spread out reflected their personalities.  Michael’s possessions had moved further from his allotted space than any of the others.  Castiel reasoned Michael probably considered the whole room his anyway.  It was only his _generosity_ that obliged him to spare part of the room to Castiel and Lucifer.  Despite this, his belongings had remained in relative order; his clothing was neatly folded and his books stacked together.  Lucifer, on the other hand, kept his possessions jealously guarded as though he feared someone would take them.  Most of his belongings were piled haphazardly on the bed and Castiel wondered how he had even managed to get beneath the covers to sleep under the mess.  He made quick work of the task, folding everything properly and storing it neatly inside each trunk as Michael demanded.  He just didn’t bother to differentiate what went into each trunk.  Really, his method made the task go much faster and Castiel was done in under ten minutes.  

Rather than take the time to go downstairs and seek breakfast - and risk running into Michael - Castiel dug into his trunk.  Benny, who had kept up a steady stream of conversation while Castiel worked spoke up again.  “If you look to the bottom right, I think you’ll find what you’re looking for.”  Castiel shifted his search and came up with a small loaf of Anna’s bread wrapped in a small towel.  

Castiel smiled, “Thanks, Benny.”  

He sat the bread aside as he looked for a pen.  Fortunately, the room did have a small table with a single chair, so he moved Benny and the bread to the table with him.  He tore off a small chunk of the loaf as he sat down and opened the book, resisting the urge to apologize for basically pressing Benny’s face into the table.  Benny had already assured him it didn’t hurt him, nor did it bother him.  

“You can’t get into a book if you don’t open the cover, kiddo.”  

Castiel thought for a moment before he put pen to paper.  He wasn’t sure if he should tell Anna that Michael and Lucifer knew his secret or not.  In the end, he decided not to tell her in a letter.  There was nothing she could do to help, and it would only cause her to worry.  For now, he would keep it to himself.  This decision made the letter shorter than he would have liked, and he soon finished it and signed his name.

Idly, Castiel began to flip through the pages of the book, occasionally stopping to examine one thing or another more closely.  What he wasn’t expecting was to come across another letter, particularly since this one was not addressed to him.  He glanced at the bottom of the page and realized it was a letter from Dean to his brother, Prince Sam.  Castiel hesitated.  Reading a private letter seemed like an intrusion.  But Anna had told him the book would show him things that would help him.  Perhaps he was supposed to read it?  Besides, he rather liked the idea of being able to watch over Dean in a way, even if he couldn’t be there himself.  

_Sam,_

_The hunt is going pretty well.  This is only my second rotation out with the patrols, and I am still too young to officially be a member of the ranks, but the other Hunters are starting to see me for what I can do rather than who our father is.  I’ll be honest, I wasn’t too happy when Captain Singer told me I was going to be going out this week.  There was someone I really wanted to introduce you to, a new friend I actually met a couple of years ago._

 

Castiel stopped and re-read the line.  Could Dean possibly have been referring to him?  

_As it happens out I wouldn’t have been able to anyway.  His father sent him away to a training school, you know, Purgatory.  I really hope he doesn’t get stuck there.  I’ve half a mind to try and break him out, but I suspect father wouldn’t approve._

_So I guess it turned out to be alright that I’m here anyway.  We haven’t run across anything big.  There was a minor water wight yesterday, but Garth was able to take care of it fairly easily.  I’d love to get practice on something like a skin walker, but the Captain made me promise to hold back and observe the actions for this maneuver.  I don’t do well just watching when I know I could be helping someone._

_I’ll be back by the end of the week.  Stay out of trouble and try not to argue with Dad too much?  I worry about you when I’m not there._

_Dean_

 

Castiel re-read the letter several times, letting his eyes linger on the signature at the bottom.  Dean might not have mentioned him by name, but he knew Dean was referring to him when he described a new friend to Prince Sam.  

He smiled to himself.  This was the first time he had made a friend his own age.  He

cursed his father more than ever that he had sent Castiel away.  He wished he could be with Dean.  He wondered if Captain Henrickson would have allowed Castiel to accompany Dean on his current hunt.  He worried a little about the Prince being rash and stepping into unnecessary danger because he thought he might be able to save someone.  But despite what Castiel _wanted_ , he was under orders.  

Now positive Dean did genuinely want him around, Castiel was more resolved than ever to try and explain why he hadn’t come to the castle as he had promised.  Even though he knew Anna had already explained, Castiel wanted to make sure Dean heard it from him too.  

Castiel had just pulled a piece of paper from his trunk when the handle to the door turned.  He looked up quickly, only to realize the door was still locked.  So did the person on the other side.  There was a furious pounding and Michael’s voice echoed through the wood, “Open this door immediately, Castiel!”

Castiel sat the paper on the table and quickly tucked Benny back inside his trunk with a hasty, “Sorry!” before moving to the door.  The delay already sending pings through his shoulder blades.  

He unlatched the door and Michael stormed through, a furious look on his face.  Lucifer followed, evidently amused by his brother’s anger.  Castiel wondered if anything had happened at breakfast or if Michael was just this worked up over a locked door.  

Michael’s eyes fell on the paper.  “What were you doing?”

“Writing a letter home,” Castiel replied, knowing if he refused to answer, Michael would just demand it from him.  

“Who were you writing to?”

“A friend,” Castiel hedged.  He had heard Michael wax poetic enough about his desire to own Dean.  He didn’t want to admit he was communicating - or at least trying to - with the prince Michael so coveted.  Something about his body language must have drawn Michael’s attention.

“Tell me who you were writing this letter to, Castiel,” he said suspiciously.  

Cas looked him straight in the eye, trying not to act as though there was anything unusual about writing to the Crown Prince.  “I was writing to Dean.”

Michael’s nostrils flared.  Even Lucifer’s smile faltered and his eyebrows shot up towards his hairline.  

“You have an awful lot of presumption calling the Prince your friend.  What makes you think he would want a letter from someone like you?  Your mother may have been a noblewoman, but you are low.  You have not been taught the ways of the court, and you do not live in the court style.  Your house looks like that of a lowly farmer.  You will not send letters to Dean.  If anyone in this room is to communicate with him, it will be me.  Is that understood?”

Castiel stared, willing his hands to unclench as he responded, “Understood.”  

He glanced away, not trusting himself to look at Michael anymore.  He was becoming more and more determined each day to find a way to break this curse.


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel was furious.  He knew if he said anything, Michael would retaliate by giving him an order, so he fumed in silence through the final leg of their journey to Purgatory.  Michael seemed content with his final order that morning, satisfied that Castiel was unable to thwart his plans to become close to Dean, and left him to his anger.  

The lands encompassing Purgatory were extensive, stretching several miles in each direction and dense with trees.  Though the path itself was generally safe, the woods teemed with supernatural creatures ready to pounce on anyone unwise enough to stray from the main road.  

Though the creatures could be found anywhere in the kingdom, they were particularly common in this region, one of the primary reasons it was chosen as the site for the school.  The theory was that students were more likely to learn by doing if their lives truly were on the line.  It also tended to weed out weaker candidates before they ever made it to the final stages of the Hunter selection process.  The concept was brutal, but effective.  

Castiel, Michael and Lucifer finally arrived at the training compound shortly after noon on their third day of traveling.  It was comprised of a series of smaller buildings set in a clearing surrounded by a wide wall.  The stone barrier stood approximately twenty feet high.  Castiel knew it was meant as a deterrent for some of the creatures, but by itself, it would be largely ineffective.  The real protection lay in the wards woven throughout the perimeter and the massive iron door that opened to admit them.

At the center of the complex was a larger building.  The carriage pulled up to the door as several young boys moved forward and began to unload the trunks.  Once Castiel stepped out, he too began to help, climbing to the roof and handing down some of the heavier objects to younger boys beneath him.  Michael and Lucifer stepped back and watched haughtily as others did the work for them.  Lucifer in particular watched their helpers closely, as though he expected them to steal something from him.  The only move forward Michael made during the process was to wipe a handprint from one of his trunks.  

Once the carriage had been cleared of their belongings, the driver set off again almost immediately, wanting to make it clear of the school’s grounds before nightfall.  Castiel stood next to his trunk a little bewildered.  Now that they were here, what were they supposed to do?

They didn’t have long to wait before finding out.  As the iron doors closed behind the departing carriage with a resounding _clang_ , a figure came forward to greet the three newcomers.  

The man was tall, approximately six feet, with dark skin and close cropped hair.  His smile seemed inviting, but there was a dark steel lurking behind his eyes Castiel wasn’t sure he trusted. He looked as though he had seen a great deal and Castiel suspected he wasn’t the type of man you crossed lightly.  

“Good afternoon.  You must be our new recruits.  My name is Professor Gordon Walker.  I am the headmaster here in Purgatory,” he looked at them expectantly until each had nodded their understanding.  

“Good, now, you will have today to settle in and prepare yourselves.  While you do have your own separate chambers, these chambers are to be kept plain.  There is no need for extensive distractions.  You are here to train to kill monsters.  Anything that takes your mind off that task will ultimately lead to your death, is that clear?”  Again they nodded and Professor Walker’s smile widened fractionally, almost predatorily.

“Now, which of you is which so we can move your belongings to your rooms?”

Soon all three were sorted out and Castiel was grateful that he would have time to himself away from Michael, and potentially, Lucifer’s influence.  Since Michael’s ultimatum that Castiel would essentially act as his servant, Castiel had dreaded the possibility that he would be required to spend almost every waking moment with the older boy.  

Fortunately, they were all escorted separately by the same boys that had helped them earlier.  When Castiel reached down to grab one end of his trunk, the boy helping him smiled in gratitude.

“Thanks.  My name’s Inias.”

Castiel smiled at the obvious friendliness in the other boy’s tone.  “Castiel.”

“Good to meet you, Castiel,” he nodded to Michael and Lucifer who had not moved to help carry their own belongings, which were far greater in number than Castiel’s.  “Those your brothers?”

Castiel sighed.  “Not yet.  Their mother, Dame Lilith is betrothed to my father.”  

Inias’s lips pursed in disapproval.  “They’d better learn quickly to get their hands dirty. Gordon won’t tolerate people who don’t pull their own weight.  Thinks they’re weak.  I’ve seen more students come and go than you would believe because they come in here thinking they’re better than everyone else. Hopefully if they go, they go by choice and not by way of the woods.”  

Castiel looked at Inias appraisingly.  “You’re a student then?”

Inias nodded.  “Everyone here is.  Gordon feels a Hunter should do his own work.  If you rely too much on others, you die.”  

Castiel frowned.  “But don’t the Hunters work as a team?  Most patrols have at least three people in them don’t they?”

Inias shrugged.  “Rely on yourself first.  Watch out for your own skin.  Stay alive and only then can you keep someone else alive.  Worry about someone else first, and you’ll be the first to die.  Those are Gordon’s rules.  He was a Hunter once and he knows his monsters.”  

Castiel noted Inias didn’t specifically indicate that he agreed with the policy, but his tone made it clear that it was not one to be openly argued.  He nodded to let the other boy know he got the message.  Inias smiled at him again.  

“How long have you been here then?” Castiel asked.  He appraised Inias. The boy looked to be slightly younger than him.  Startled, Castiel realized most of the boys he had seen so far today had been younger than him.  

“About three years.”  He continued, seeming to sense Castiel’s next question, “Most of us start here around eight or nine.  It’s rare someone is accepted at your age.  Usually that only happens if someone donates a lot of money and it’s even rarer if they last very long.”

Inias bit his lower lip and looked at Castiel sheepishly as though he just realized what he said implied.  Castiel smiled again to assure Inias no offense had been taken.

“I’ve been in private training since I was six, but it’s been some time since I’ve had formal lessons.  I hope I’m not too far behind.”  

Inias’s face cleared.  “If you follow orders and don’t assume you know everything, you’ll be fine.”  They had reached Castiel’s room by now and, after setting the trunk on the ground, Inias straightened and extended his hand.  Castiel grasped it in return, grateful for the welcoming gesture after the past few days.

“Don’t worry.  I can follow orders.”

 

* * *

 

Once Inias had gone, Castiel immediately opened his trunk and pulled Benny out.  He would worry about unpacking later in the afternoon.  For now, he wanted to look through Benny’s pages and see if Anna had sent him another letter.  Or perhaps there was something else about Dean.  

Benny’s face smiled at him in gratitude as Castiel moved towards the bed. “Thanks.  Those last couple miles were hard on my spine.”

Castiel grimaced and sat on the bed shaking his head as he opened Benny’s cover and began flipping through the pages.  “Benny, if your pages are always changing, how can I ever hope to find anything?” Castiel asked, a small amount of frustration leaking into his voice.

“Have you tried the table of contents?” Benny asked, reasonably.

Castiel started.  He hadn’t supposed that a shifting book would have a table of contents. “How does that work if nothing ever stays the same?” he asked.  

“Once my cover is open, what’s inside is set.  It’ll only change if you close me again,” Benny explained.  

Castiel nodded and followed Benny’s advice.  Sure enough, he found a letter from Anna - and a letter from Dean.  Addressed to Castiel.  Castiel felt his stomach jump.  He didn’t want to make too big a deal out of the idea that Dean would want to write him.  He decided to read Anna’s letter first.  

It was short, and rather typical.  She wanted to know if he’d arrived and what the school was like so far.  She asked after Benny as well and reminded him to eat his vegetables.  Castiel thought about responding immediately, but he couldn’t resist reading Dean’s letter any longer.  

_Cas,_

_I’m not sure why I’m writing this.  I’m not going to send it.  I don’t usually do the whole letter thing.  I guess I’m just disappointed you left.  I thought about you a lot after the first time we met.  I tried to find an excuse to see you again after that but nothing I came up with ever seemed right._

_It probably seems strange, since I guess I’m a public figure and all, but I don’t make friends easily.  I was really happy when I met you again in that alley.  When you agreed to train at the palace, I thought maybe you wanted to be friends too.  But you left.  Your cook said your father made you leave.  I understand what it’s like to try and live up to a father’s expectations._

_I still can’t help but wonder if maybe you wanted to go.  I guess I’ll have to wait until the next time I see you to find out.  I really hope we see each other again.  I hope you still want to be friends._

_Dean_

 

Castiel re-read the letter three times.  He hated that he couldn’t respond.  Of course he wanted to be friends with Dean.  He had never yearned for anything more in his life.  It made Castiel furious to know that Dean suffered from such doubts, yet he was powerless to soothe them.  He thought back to

Michael’s order, _you will not send letters to Dean._  Fine.  He couldn’t actually send Dean a response, but then, since Dean had never actually sent the letter to Castiel to begin with, it might seem suspicious that Castiel was responding to his private thoughts.  So Castiel would respond.  He would write to Dean and, like Dean, keep the letters to himself.  Maybe one day, he would have the chance to explain.  

_Dean,_

_I am sorry I wasn’t able to come to the castle to train like I promised.  I assure you, I did ask my father to let me train in the city, but he would hear none of it.  I like the idea of calling you my friend.  I’ve never really had a friend before - except for my mother and Anna of course._

_I wish I could ask you so many questions.  Why do you find it hard to make friends?  Do you want to be a Hunter?  Do you and Prince Sam get along?  What’s it like to have a brother?_

_I don’t think I’m looking forward to having brothers.  Michael and Lucifer have very...unique…views on life.  Particularly where you’re concerned.  Michael, especially, seems to feel he has a clear insight into what you most want and feel.  I admit that I might have jumped to your defense a little too quickly.  Since we’ve only had one real conversation, perhaps he is right and I am wrong.  But I have made a long practice of learning to quickly judge a person’s character so I don’t think I am._

_Purgatory seems like it will give me a good opportunity to prepare to join the Hunters, but I would still rather be training with you.  I’m supposed to stay here at least until my father’s wedding.  I’m hoping after that, perhaps I can return home and begin training as we planned.  If of course, you still want me by then._

_I am sorry I can’t write and explain all this to you all this myself.  One day, perhaps I can tell you everything._

_Castiel_

 

Castiel looked at what he had written and ached to send it, though knew he couldn’t.  He wanted to tell Dean everything.  He wanted to break his curse.  

Sighing, he stood up and began to unpack.

 

* * *

 

Fortunately, Michael didn’t seem to require Castiel’s presence the first night.  It was possible Michael was just as sick of Castiel’s company as Castiel was of his after their long carriage ride.  

Castiel’s good luck ran out by the next morning, though.  All recruits, new and old, were required to dress in proper uniform and appear in the main hall for breakfast.  Anyone who was late would be subject to a severe punishment.  

Inias had come to Castiel’s room the previous evening to brief him on the rules and expectations of the school.  Most of them seemed fairly straightforward.  They were expected to live simply and to obey orders.  No one was to go on a hunt alone and they would be assigned into patrol groups.  

Prior to being assigned patrol groups, they would be tested on their skills, so in addition to being fully dressed, their weapons of choice should be prepared as well.

Castiel had polished his short sword the night before and wished he had the angel blade Dean had given him.  He should have expected Michael would not have prepared the evening before.  

The sun was not yet up when a small, timid boy knocked on Castiel’s door and handed him a sheet of paper with a short note on it:

_Castiel,_

_My clothes and weapons are in need of preparation.  See to them before the sun has risen.  I will need them before breakfast.  Your trick with the trunks did not go unnoticed.  Don’t attempt to sabotage me today._

_Michael._

Castiel shrugged to himself.  It wasn’t as though he’d thought Michael would overlook his attempt at rebellion.  Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest move Castiel had ever made, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  He glanced out the window and sighed.  The sun would be up soon.  That left him very little time for his own morning toilette.  

He decided to take care of Michael’s chores first.  If he had to fight the curse complaints while he got himself ready, it would just take him that much longer to finish both tasks.  He pushed his feet into his boots and pulled open his door, to the crisp morning chill.  He knew the day would warm quickly, it was still very early fall and while evenings were cold, the sun still had the final remnants of its summer strength to warm the days.  

To his relief, Michael had left he clothing and weapons on a chair just outside his door.  He wouldn’t have to worry about trying to sneak in and collect them and risk additional orders from a cantankerous spoiled brat.  

Moving the items, back to his room, he laid them out.  The clothes needed little more than a brushing down to remove whatever dust they had picked up along the road.  Michael was clearly fastidious in his appearance and that carried over into proper care for his clothes.  

The sword was in worse shape.  Obviously not well cared for, the blade was dull and unlikely to cause damage to a small branch, much less a thick skinned monster.  Castiel wondered if Michael had ever actually used the sword, or if his boasts ended with his words.  He supposed he would find out later that day.  None of them would be able to sidestep the testing and Michael couldn’t order Castiel to fight for him.  

Pulling out a rag and the polish Anna had very thoughtfully packed for his own small sword, Castiel got to work.  He could feel his back starting to prickle just as he finished and he looked out the window in alarm.  Sure enough, the sun was starting to rise.  

_Damn_. Castiel hurriedly collected Michael’s belongings and returned them to the chair by Michael’s door.  He wouldn’t have time to see to his own clothes and weapon.  The best he would be able to do would be to wear whatever was least rumpled and hope it would suffice.  At least he knew his weapon was in good condition, though he would have prefered giving it a once over and a chance to run through a few warm ups.  

Even with his abbreviated morning, Castiel barely made it to the dining hall on time.  He scurried into place next to the person at the end of the bench closest to the door, not paying much attention to whom they might be.  As soon as he sat down, the benches scrapped back and everyone in the room stood simultaneously.  Castiel scrambled to shift his balance and do the same.  Everyone stayed standing as Professor Walker moved through the students to the head table.  Once he was seated, everyone else followed suit.  Only then did Castiel feel he could afford a glance to his neighbor.  

To his mild surprise, he saw a girl with a roundish face and brown wavy hair looking back at him with what could only be described as a smirk on her face.  He looked around the room and confirmed, she was the only girl there.  Not that he took exception to the idea of a female Hunter.  After all, his mother was his first teacher and if she were still alive, he doubted few would be her equal.  

He looked back and realized the girl was still watching him.  

“Good morning,” he said, trying to be polite.  

“Man, you are so in over your head,” the girl laughed, shaking her head.  

Castiel frowned.  “I’m sorry?”

“Late on your first day?  And you look like you got dressed in the dark.  What?  Are you not a morning person?”

Castiel sighed.  So much for passing muster.  And he couldn’t even explain why he was so unprepared.  He decided it was just easier to play along.  “Not really.  I’ve never found mornings pleasant.”   

“I’m Castiel, by the way,” he proffered his hand in greeting.  

The girl just looked down at it and chuckled.  “Nah, that doesn’t fit.  I like Clarence better.”  

Castiel frowned in confusion.  “I don’t understand that reference.  Why would _Clarence_ suit me better than my own name?”  

The girl didn’t answer, she just laughed.  The sound was a cross between amused and mocking, but wasn’t completely unkind.  “I’m Meg,” she said, reaching out finally to take his hand.  “I like you, Clarence.  This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”  

Castiel found his head spinning.  Meg was the strangest person he had ever met, yet instead of finding her strangeness repelling, he felt himself smiling instead.  A week ago, he had had no friends beyond Anna.  Now he found himself with two.  

“If I’m in so over my head, perhaps you can give me some tips on how to swim?” he asked hopefully.  The last thing he wanted to do was fail on his very first day.  He might not have had much opportunity to train the past few months, but being a Hunter hadn’t just been his mother’s hope and goal.  With the prospect of being able to join Dean, Castiel was more determined than ever to succeed.  

“Well, first of all, I’d recommend straightening yourself up.  You look like you slept in your clothes,” Meg said, eying him up and down.  

“Second, you should learn to better choose your companions,” a voice drawled from behind Castiel.  

Castiel saw Meg flinch and he turned to see a tall dark skinned boy standing behind him.  

“Can I help you?” Castiel asked coolly, his eyebrow raised.    
The boy was tall and on the lean side, but not thin.  He had  a deep voice and a piercing gaze, which was currently turned towards Meg with a disapproving frown.  

Meg, for her part, stared right back as though challenging the older boy.  Castiel respected her refusal to back down, despite the stranger’s intimidating attitude.  

After several moment’s pause as the two stared off, the newcomer turned to Castiel and offered his hand.  My name is Raphael.  Welcome to Purgatory.  I’m sorry you were bothered by this demon on your first morning.”

Castiel frowned.   _Demon_ was a derogatory term used to describe the people from Hellia.  Castiel knew tensions had been mounting the last few years between Fell and Hellia, but he’d never understood the need to stoop to hate over a single individual.  So far, Meg had been nothing but friendly towards him.  He hadn’t even realized she was _from_ Hellia.  

He took the opportunity to look at her out of the corner of his eye.  At first she glared at Raphael.  Soon though, she turned her gaze towards the table, her shoulders slumped slightly forward.  Castiel felt a surge of anger flow through him.  Why should Meg be judged because of the politics of the country she happened to be born in?

“Meg is a friend of mine,” Cas told Raphael cooly, “I can assure you, she is not bothering me as much as some people I’ve had the opportunity to meet this morning.” The slight was not subtle and Raphael got the hint.  He raised an eyebrow archly, before tilting his head in acknowledgement, turning on his heel and walking away.  

Castiel turned back to Meg whose face seemed to be warring between surprised and impressed.  

“Well, Clarence, I must say I wasn’t expecting that from you.  Thank you.  That guy’s a jerk.  Nothing I can’t handle of course.”

Castiel suspected she handled that sort of thing on a daily basis and his respect for her grew several degrees.  

“Now,” she said, turning a critical eye to his appearance, “we need to get you straightened up before your first inspection.”

 

* * *

 

To Castiel’s relief, with Meg’s help he was able to make himself passably presentable for inspection.  When Professor Walker reached him, his eyes narrowed in clear displeasure, but he didn’t stop to chew him out the way he did another student, Andy, a little further down the line.  Meg told Castiel later that Andy had a lot of charm and often managed to use that to his advantage on most of the instructors, but it had never worked on Walker.  

Castiel, Michael, Lucifer and about four other new students all lined up along the edge of one of the practice fields and waited their turn as they were each subjected to a skills test to determine where they should be placed within the school.  

To Castiel’s mild disappointment, both Michael and Lucifer performed rather well.  Despite Michael’s advantage in age and size, both brothers were fairly equally matched.  Ultimately, Walker called the round a draw.  Castiel wondered idly, if Michael and Lucifer were pitted together in a cage, who would win?  Would they just wind up fighting for all eternity?  He almost wished he could do just that, simply to get them out of his hair.  At least it would resolve his worries about the brothers knowing his greatest weakness.  

Castiel was set against Andy’s twin brother Ansem, who appeared to have a meaner streak than the laid back Andy.  Ansem seemed angry at the world and used that anger to fuel his fighting.  Castiel, on the other hand, remained calm throughout the fight, which allowed him a greater sense of focus and clarity.

Castiel had just earned a touch point against Ansem when the other boy lost his cool and muttered just loud enough for Castiel to hear, “Do me a favor and just trip over your own feet why don’t you?”

_Damn._  Until that point, Castiel had been doing respectably well.  He had been fairly confident he would be placed in one of the higher level classes based on the maneuvers he’d seen others performing.  Now he was sure to be placed in a lower class.  No advanced Hunter tripped over his own feet after all.  But that’s exactly what Castiel had to force himself to do, faceplanting into the dirt and feeling Ansem’s blade at his back, giving the other boy the killing stroke.  

As Castiel stood up, Meg was looking at him confused, Professor Walker just shook his head in disappointment, Lucifer looked at him as though he was a strange specimen of some kind and Michael just looked smug.  

Ansem was clearly surprised at the turn of events, but chose not to say anything aloud, for which Castiel was grateful.  The last thing he needed was for more people to start putting two and two together.  If they did, Castiel would never know another moment’s peace.  

As he expected, Castiel was placed in the Advanced Apprentice class as opposed to one of the Journeyman classes as he had originally hoped.  At least he wasn’t in a novice level class.

Meg clapped him on the back.  “Looks like you’re with me Clarence.”

Castiel looked at her in surprise.  “I watched you fight today, you’re far too good for this level class”

Meg rolled her eyes.  “And so are you,” she said as though it was obvious.  “I’m not above apprentice level because I’m from Hellia.  Apparently, they’re afraid to teach me too much.  I might take it back home with me and use it against them.  As if I have time for that.  I want to learn the skills of a Hunter because my family needs the protection.   I couldn’t care less about what His Royal Highness, Crowley decides to do with his minions. Fortunately, we have enough money that the school is willing to turn at least one blind eye to the fact that I’m a _demon_. Just not enough to get me into a better class. It’s amazing what fiscal incentive can do for you if you use it right. Most people back home don’t have the money or don’t want to put up with this crap.”

Castiel didn’t miss the clear tone of distaste on Meg’s tongue as she named the self-proclaimed King of Hellia.  He wondered if she spoke from personal experience or if she was speaking generally.  Castiel had rarely had a cause to involve himself in politics, much less those of their neighboring country and had no opinions on Hellia’s king.  He was grateful to hear he would have a friend in his classes.  

Michael and Lucifer were both placed at the lower level Journeyman class.  At least Castiel wouldn’t have to deal with Michael every minute of the day.  Michael seemed to sense Castiel’s gaze on him and turned a sneer in his direction.  It was going to be a long six months.  

 


	6. Chapter 6

After the first week or so, Castiel fell into a rhythm.  He got up earlier each morning so he would have time to prepare Michael’s equipment for the day as well as his own.  He worked hard in his class, occasionally earning praise for following instructions well.  Meg rolled her eyes whenever this happened and called him a goody-two-shoes. It didn’t matter. These incidents were few and far between.  

The instructor for the advanced apprentice class was Levi Roman and, as Meg was fond of noting, he was a real dick.  Sometimes, despite the nuggets of approval, Castiel felt Roman had placed a target on his back.  It wasn’t just him, all of the professors of Purgatory seemed to zero in on Castiel as though determined to make an example of him.  He wasn’t quite sure why.  

Even Meg had noticed it, mentioning it one day over lunch.  “So who did you kill, man?”

Castiel had looked at her confused, “I don’t understand that reference.”  He so rarely did with Meg.  

“Listen, Clarence, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you aren’t exactly the most well loved around here.  I mean, they seem to like you even less than they like me, and that’s saying something.  So I was just wondering what you did to earn all the spite.”

Castiel frowned.  He had wondered the same thing, but had thought perhaps the observation was all in his head. “I don’t know,” he said honestly.  

Aside from Meg’s friendship, the only things that kept him sane were Benny and the occasional letters from Anna and Dean.  

Dean still wasn’t writing to him directly.  Castiel wasn’t sure what drove his friend to continue to write to him, especially when he had no hope of a response, but Castiel was glad that he did.  

One night, after a particularly difficult day, Castiel trudged back to his room, exhausted.  Roman had ordered him to fight three other recruits at once.  Castiel had managed to hold his own, but he hadn’t escaped unscathed.  Since there had been a light rain falling that day, he was covered not only in bruises, but mud as well.  

He knew he needed to change and bathe, but he opted to re-read the letter Dean had written him yesterday instead.  At Benny’s insistence, he did at least wash his hands first.  

 

_Cas,_

_Captain Singer is sending us out on another patrol this week.  This will be my third and the Captain seems to think I’m ready to lead the patrol.  It’s really just a formality.  Ash and Victor will be on patrol with me.  They’re technically supposed to be following my orders, but both are more experienced than me and we all know that if anything goes wrong, they’ll be able to take over.  So I guess I can’t screw up too badly.  I’m only a little over a year away from officially being given charge of all the Hunters though, and I’m worried I won’t live up to expectations._

_I’ve tried to talk to my father about it, but his response is always the same, “A king needs to be a leader.  If you doubt yourself others will doubt you.  Don’t show emotion.  Focus on the hunt.”  I just hope I can make him proud._

_He and Sammy had another fight today.  Sam doesn’t want to join the Hunters and Dad is furious with him.  It’s always the same argument.  Dad shouting about it being the family responsibility and Sam telling him he just wants to study the history and the lore behind the monsters - perhaps finding a different way to protect the people besides hunting._

_I don’t want to take sides.  I think Dad is probably right.  We need to hunt, there’s not going to be another solution to keeping the people safe.  But I have to admit, I want Sam to be able to study.  It’s what makes him happy.  He’s a good fighter, but his heart’s not in it, and I’d rather see him safe._

_It’s a good thing I don’t really mean to send this.  Both of them would kill me for telling anyone that._

_Dean_

 

Cas wondered how Dean would feel if he knew Castiel was reading his letters.  Would he be happy?  Would he be upset?  As usual, Castiel pulled out a blank sheet of paper to write a response.  As he sat there, he looked at the paper, unsure of what to say.  

 

_Dean,_

_I wish I had a brother who cared for me as much as you clearly care for Sam.  I must admit I don’t get along with my own father.  He is gone much of the time.  Once it bothered me.  Now, I prefer it that way.  If he had not returned when he did, for example, I would be training with you rather than here in Purgatory._

_Sometimes I wonder if our teachers are monsters themselves based on the tasks they set for us.  I believe Hunters should be trained to rely on each other, but, more often than not, we're pitted against student against student with survival of the fittest mentality._

_I’ve been sent on minor patrols with my class, but we’re neither allowed nor trusted to be out for long.  I remain in the advanced apprentice class, though many of my classmates have progressed on.  My only consolation in this is that my friend, Meg, remains in the same predicament.  I’m unsure why I haven’t moved forward.  I've followed every instruction and can’t be beaten in the class.  Meg suspects it’s because I managed to best Professor Roman in the first week.  Apparently the proper protocol was to let him win and preserve his ego._

_I’m certain you will do well on your patrol.  I must ask though, is it what you want to do?  You often talk about Sam and his hopes for the future, but you never talk about your own.  Do you wish to be king?  Or is there something else you would like to be?  When did you know what being king meant?_

_Your friend,_

_Cas_

 

Castiel didn’t know why he asked questions in the letters he wrote to Dean.  He would never get the answers.  He looked again at his signature line.  Dean never added a salutation, but Castiel always ended his letters with “your friend.”  Though he couldn’t tell Dean how much that friendship meant right now, Castiel wanted the acknowledgement of it somewhere in the universe.  

He smiled too at his shortened name.  He never thought of himself as Cas, unless it was as Dean’s friend.  It was almost as though when he wrote to Dean, he could be someone else, someone free of his curse.  He wondered how he would feel about the name if he ever got to see Dean again.  Would Dean still want to be his friend after so many months of silence?

Idly, Cas flipped through Benny’s pages.  Suddenly, something caught his eye and he stopped to read it more closely.  “What’s this?” he asked out loud.  

Benny snorted, “Kiddo, you know I don’t know what’s inside my own head.” Castiel started and nearly dropped the book.

Benny wasn’t always present on the cover of the book.  Castiel wasn’t sure where he went when he vanished.  He’d asked Benny once but Benny had chosen not to answer directly, responding instead with, “we all deal with our own curses in our own way.” The result was Benny often appearing with no warning.  Castiel had grown used to this for the most part, but he hadn’t actually expected a reply to his question.  

“Well, you going to share what you found?” Benny wondered aloud, his voice carrying a tone of annoyance.

“Just a minute,” Castiel said, trying to understand what he was reading.  

The message was short, written in small, very precise script.  It was from Michael to Gordan Walker.  

_Professor Walker,_

_I am sure you are aware of the benefits of our current arrangement with you.  My mother, Dame Lilith, is paying you a handsome sum - well above and beyond the standard tuition - in order to ensure the proper promotions and associations are formed while my brother and I are here.  I find, however, that I am dissatisfied with the apparent friendship between Castiel and the demon that is, for some reason, permitted to attend this school.  I request that she be removed from Castiel’s patrol group.  I will speak with Castiel in the morning and let him know in no uncertain terms that he is forbidden from speaking with her again._

_Michael_

 

Once Castiel had read the letter several times, he relayed the message to Benny.  His voice shook in anger.  He would not - could not - continue to allow Michael to dictate who he was allowed to associate with.  First he had cut Castiel off from Dean, now he had effectively done the same with Meg.  Michael might not have given the order directly to him, but Castiel had read it.  It was enough.  

Castiel had witnessed the bigotry Meg experienced here in Purgatory.  He wouldn’t stand by and appear to bend to that prejudice despite his lack of choice.  He would leave that very night, before he had to face Meg in the morning; or before Michael could gloat as he issued yet another order that was bound to make Castiel miserable.  

Castiel closed the book and looked at the cover.  “Benny, do you think you might be able to access a map that could lead us out of Purgatory?”

Benny squinted as he thought about the request.  Castiel had become familiar with this expression.  While Benny couldn’t tell what was in his pages, he, on occasion, had the ability to call forth something Castiel requested by concentrating on it.  

“Think I managed to pull that off, why don’t you check and see?”

Castiel opened the book and to his satisfaction, found a very detailed map of the territory surrounding the training school.  It even marked the known nests of the supernatural creatures inhabiting the woods.  While that wouldn’t necessarily keep him safe, it would help him to avoid specific areas and to know what to expect as he moved forward.  

“Thank you, Benny.”

“Glad to help.  So, are you just plannin’ on high tailing it out of here, or do you have a specific destination in mind?”

Castiel paused.  He knew what he _wanted_ to do, but he wasn’t sure he would succeed.  He didn’t even know where to start.  

“I want to find Naomi.  I need to break this curse.  I know Anna says removing the curse would be more big magic, but I have to try _something_.  But I have no idea _where_ to find her.”

“Close me again.”

“But the map…”

“The map will stay, you still need it. If you close me again, I might be able to pull up a clue as to where she might be.”

Castiel did as he was told and watched as Benny concentrated.  When he opened his eyes again, he looked less sure than he had about the map.  “Don’t know if that did any good, but check.  I think I felt something come through at least.”

Castiel opened the book and checked the table of contents again.  Inside, he found an entry for a wedding invitation dated five days from then.  

Castiel frowned.  “What good is a wedding invitation?” he asked.

“And Anna’s always going on about how intelligent you are.”

Castiel didn’t respond, choosing instead to wait for Benny to elaborate.  The book was still open to the invitation, so Castiel couldn’t read Benny’s expression.  After a few prolonged seconds, Castiel heard Benny sigh.  

“Naomi loves weddings and births.  They’re just the kind of place she can show off her...generosity.”  

Castiel’s face cleared.  “So if I go to this wedding, I should be able to find Naomi?”

“I would think that’s fair assumption, yes,” Benny said, his voice holding a hint of smugness to it.  

“Well then, I suppose if I use the map, I should be able to get us out of here and moving in the right direction at least.”

Castiel studied the map closely.  Due to the prevalence of supernatural creatures in the surrounding woods, he would have preferred to stay on the main road.  Unfortunately, that took him several days out of the way.  With the wedding less than a week away, he knew he didn’t have the luxury of the extra time.  He would have to cut through the forest.  

“Benny, I certainly hope this map is accurate.  You’re my guide.  We won’t make it out of here without you.”

Benny grunted before responding.  “Sure hope you know how to read a map.  I’m depending on you to carry me out.  Can’t exactly take myself can I?”  

Castiel chuckled.  He would have no problem with reading the map.  Despite his proficiency with a blade, Castiel had learned in his training that his true skill lay in strategics.  Planning a route would be easy.  Executing it would be the challenge.  

He took another long look at the map before hefting his bag over his shoulder, tucking Benny under his arm, and setting off.  

The first several miles were uneventful, if tiring. He periodically stopped to check the map, not only to mark their progress, but also to ensure he didn’t stray too close to a known nest or hunting ground.  

Twice, he had to change direction.  The first time, he realized he had nearly stumbled into the hunting ground of a wendigo.  The second time, he discovered he was only a few hundred yards away from a small lake, which in addition to being slightly out of his way anyway, also housed an each-usige.  

If he were certain he could keep the each-usige away from water, attempting to capture it might have been useful since he could have forced it into its horse form and hastened his journey.  However, too many people had assumed they could control such creatures and the histories were littered with examples of how such overconfidence very rarely resulted in success.  Since the alternative involved being eaten himself, Castiel chose to remain on foot.

He estimated they were approximately two thirds of the way through the woods when he decided to take a break.  The sun, from what he could glimpse through the trees, was well overhead; most likely around two or three o’clock in the afternoon.  He hoped he would be able to break the tree cover for safer, more open territory by nightfall.  

Castiel had been walking since just before dawn and he was more than willing to sit for a few minutes.  He wasn’t hungry.  He’d been harvesting edible berries and mushrooms from the path as he walked.  Instead, he leaned back against the trunk of a tree and chose to open Benny to the last letter from Dean.

Castiel had learned from past experience that when Dean went out on patrol, he was far less likely to write on a regular basis, so he didn’t expect anything new today.  As Castiel read the letter again, he yearned to be near Dean, to have that companionship both seemed to seek in each other almost instinctively.  

Just as he was imagining his friend, trying to remember his laugh, Dean himself stepped into the clearing.  He looked every inch the Hunter, with a short knife sticking out of the top of his boot and a dirk tucked into his belt.  Over his shoulder, a coil of rope sat, waiting to bind whatever he managed to capture.

Castiel set Benny down and scrambled to his feet, shocked.  “Dean!”

The young man in front of him looked at him for a moment and then smiled.  The smile was not a friendly thing.  It was cold and malicious.  Castiel instinctively stepped back and reached for his blade.  This was _not_ Dean


	7. Chapter 7

At Castiel's movement, Dean, or the creature stealing his face, smiled even wider.  When it spoke, the voice was harsh, high, and raspy.  It did not fit the image it wore at all.  “Oh no. I don’t think so. You won’t be going anywhere. I don’t even need to bother trying to lure you do I, boy?” The thing in front of him snickered.  

Castiel took a fighting stance, spreading his feet to give himself better balance.  

The creature just laughed before hissing, “Drop your weapon.”

For a moment, Castiel considered disobeying, but as soon as his hand reflexively tightened around the handle, the familiar pains in his back began.  Reluctantly, he dropped his sword.  He didn’t relax his muscles and the remaining tension did not go unnoticed.  

The creature slid the coil of rope of his shoulder and tossed it at Castiel’s feet.  “Bind your feet.”  

Castiel clenched his jaw and bent to do what he was told as his mind frantically raced, trying to find a way out of his situation.  

“You know, usually I have to steal the voice too.  The face is simple.  A quick peek into your mind is all I need.  The voice is a bit trickier.  I have to actually hear it.  But you?  You are the easiest prey I’ve ever stalked.”

“You’re a crocotta then?” Castiel asked, his voice grounding out an octave lower in his irritated frustration.  

“Oh, aren’t you the clever little human.  Yes, I’m a crocotta, and you are dinner.  Now move over to that tree and keep your hands by your sides.”

As he spoke, the crocotta moved closer to Castiel.

“You know this would have been more efficient if you had just asked me to stand by the tree first,” Castiel grumbled as he scooted and pulled his way through the instructions.  It didn’t surprise him that the crocotta knew he could be controlled.  They were notorious for being able to see into their victim’s thoughts to pull out the image of the one person they would most trust. If the crocotta could see Dean, it was likely he could see the curse too.  

Castiel leaned against the tree as the creature took the longer tail of rope tying Castiel’s feet together and wrapped it around the tree to pin Castiel in place.  

The trunk of the tree was wide, completely obscuring the creature from view, even if Castiel craned his head around in an attempt to keep his eye on the threat.  As he busied himself behind the tree, the crocotta continued talking, illustrating in great detail precisely what he intended to do with Castiel and how he would be able to feast off him for at least a week.  The creature was so engrossed in his monologue, he didn’t hear the twig snap in the brush nearby.  Castiel did.  His head swiveled to try and identify the potential new threat.

Instead he saw - Dean.  Castiel frowned.  Was this another illusion?  The image in front of him put a finger to his lips and winked.  Castiel nodded to show his understanding.  If this was another trick, he didn’t have much choice but to play along.  

As the Dean in front of him crept forward, he bent down and pulled the knife out of his boot.  This Dean was almost an exact replica of the one behind him - down to the knife and the dirk; the only difference was the color of their tunics.  Was the one behind him a copy of this Dean?  Was this Dean real?  Castiel didn’t know and didn’t care at the moment.  

He waited with bated breath, straining his ears for whatever might be happening behind him.  Suddenly there was a sharp cry and the sound of a knife slicing flesh.  Castiel heard a soft thump from behind the tree.  Within seconds, the rope binding his arms loosened and the new Dean came around to face him with a wide grin on his face.  

“Well?” he asked, “What are you waiting for?  Go ahead and untie your feet!”

It was Dean’s voice.  Unless another crocotta had happened to come upon his friend somewhere else in the woods, this was the real Dean standing in front of him.  Castiel smiled back and quickly bent to obey the order.  

There was another rustling in the bush and Dean turned and looked over his shoulder as two other men and a young woman stepped through the bushes, each leading a horse.  The woman led two horses and Castiel presumed one of them must be Dean’s.    

“What took you guys so long?  You missed out on the whole rescue!”

“We wouldn’t have if you had waited the way you were supposed to.  Captain Singer’s not going to be too pleased if we tell him you went in without backup,” a broad, dark skinned man told him, wry amusement clear in his voice.  

“I wouldn’t have gone in alone if I wasn’t sure I could handle it, Victor, you know that,” Dean said reassuringly.  “Besides, I knew once Cas here was free, I’d have all the back up I needed.”

Dean turned back to Castiel, his smile growing even wider if possible.  Castiel found himself almost blinded by it.  He couldn’t remember anyone ever looking that happy to see him before. Only then did he realize he had yet to actually say anything.  He fruitlessly searched for something appropriate - _I missed you, I’m sorry I never wrote, why are you here? Are we still friends?_

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.  Fancy meeting you here.  So tell me.  How on earth did a crocotta manage to get a jump on you?  I know you’re better than that.”

Castiel scrambled for a way to obey the order.  Dean hadn’t directly said to tell the _truth_.  He didn’t want to lie to Dean, but nor could he explain the curse.  As a compromise, he tried to find something as close to the truth as possible.

“I’ve been walking all morning.  Unfortunately, I decided to take a short break just as the creature came along and I was caught off guard.”  He wondered if Dean would say anything about the form the crocotta had chosen to take.  It must have been a strange experience to kill something that wore your own face.  

“Dude, you’ve been walking around _Purgatory_ by yourself?  All day?  Damn. If we have to start rescuing every stupid moron who decides that’s a good idea, we’ll never be able to do our jobs.”  This observation came from a man who appeared to be in his mid twenties with a rather unusual hairstyle. Castiel cringed at the censure in his voice.  Would Dean consider him incompetent now?  It was admittedly not the wisest idea to wander through these woods alone, despite being well trained, but he’d had little choice.  

“Ash,” Dean said, his voice laced with amusement.  “You’ve clearly never had the chance to see Cas fight.  He can hold his own.”

Castiel felt his chest swell with pride.  Maybe Dean didn’t think him a fool after all.

Dean suddenly seemed to realize his manners as he turned back to Cas, “Sorry, guess I should introduce everyone.  Cas, this is Victor, Charlie and Ash, all Hunters. ”  Dean pointed to each person as he spoke. “We’re currently on patrol in this region.”  

Ash still looked skeptical at Dean’s proclamation of Cas’s skills, but Dean continued to smirk.  “Don’t believe me?” he asked, clearly reading the other Hunter’s thoughts.  

Dean turned to Castiel.  “You prefer to fight with a sword, am I right?”

Castiel nodded, thinking about the angel blade waiting for him at home.  Dean had never seen him fight with a weapon, but he had watched his moves closely enough to learn that detail about Castiel.  He wondered, for at least the hundredth time, why Dean would pay him such attention.  

“Feel like proving my point?” Dean asked, offering Castiel his own blade and gesturing to Ash.  Ash’s face lit up in anticipation.  Understanding dawned on Castiel and he nodded his head.  He was confident he could fight well.  He had trained most of his life and the last three months training in Purgatory had drilled the basics into him so that he didn’t even have to think about the movements his body made as he countered his opponent.  Still, he felt his stomach tighten.  What if he failed to uphold the trust Dean had placed in him?  If he lost this fight, would Dean lose face in front of his squad?    
Behind him, he heard Charlie chuckle as she settled herself on the trunk of a fallen tree.  “This should be interesting.”

Ash was already an experienced Hunter, still active and in his prime.  Castiel wasn’t sure how well he’d do, but he was willing to give it his best attempt.  

Castiel pulled his blade out, twirling it in his hand as he stepped back into a fighting stance. It wasn’t an attempt to show off, but rather to loosen up the muscles in his fingers and wrist.  They needed to be ready if he wanted to be able to respond without thought.  Nonetheless, Victor whistled and even Ash raised an eyebrow.  

It was a full minute before either Castiel or Ash shifted more than a few steps at a time as they circled each other, watching for a weakness or an opening.  In the end, Castiel wasn’t sure which one of them moved first.  Perhaps he had decided to strike on his own, or perhaps his muscles reacted to some minute shift in Ash’s posture, but the action was explosive as the two brought their weapons together in a clash of metal.

It soon became clear that while Ash might have more practical experience, he and Castiel were fairly evenly matched.  The smirk left Ash’s face as he began to frown slightly in concentration.  At first, there was no reaction from the three onlookers; the sudden action seemed to take them off guard.  Soon though, they were egging on the challengers.  Victor and Charlie seemed to vary between supporting Ash and heckling him for a particularly reckless maneuver.  

Castiel felt something stir within him as he heard Dean’s voice calling out encouragement to _him_.  In this battle, he was Dean’s champion.  As the fight continued, both Ash and Castiel began to tire.  It was only a matter of time before one of them made a mistake.  Castiel was determined that it wouldn’t be him.  

No sooner than he’d thought this, Ash lost track of his surroundings and planted his foot firmly on the rounded edge of a tree root, worn smooth from exposure to the elements.  

Triumphantly, Castiel stepped forward and knelt to the ground next to Ash, pressing the tip of his sword against his chest in the customary symbol of victory.  Ash dropped his own sword and raised his hands in front of him placatingly as he huffed a laugh.  

Castiel smiled in return and moved the point of his sword away from Ash.  He stood up and extended an arm to offer assistance to Ash as the Hunter did the same to accept the gesture.  

Ash tossed an arm around Castiel’s shoulders.  “I like you kid.  I can see why His Highness thinks so highly of you. At least a bit.”

Castiel shrugged and looked down at himself modestly.  “It was just a trial fight.”

“I’m not talking about just now, man.  The Prince talks about you all the time.  I was starting to wonder if he made you up.  Kinda like Garth and that freaking marionette of his.”

“Ash!” Dean barked, “how many times do I have to tell you, call me Dean?”  

Castiel looked at Dean closely and realized the tips of his ears were slightly redder than before.  Did Dean talk about him?  Why would he do that?  The realization that Dean thought about him as someone more than a person to address an unintended letter to, helped ease the sharp sadness he felt at the thought of others being asked to call him Dean as well; that someone other than Castiel was not only permitted,  but encouraged to use the informal name.  

Then Dean looked at him and grinned.  Castiel couldn’t help but smile back, Dean’s happiness was infectious.  Ash just rolled his eyes and pulled away from Castiel.

“All right, Victor, Charlie, let’s get camp set up and leave these two to catch up.”  Ash ended his comment with a wiggle of his eyebrow.  

“So,” Dean said, clearly trying to tune out Ash and the others as Cas looked around to see what he might be able to do to contribute to the clearly controlled chaos. “How come you never wrote to me?”

Castiel turned his full gaze directly to Dean then.  He didn’t think he was imagining the small trace of hurt in Dean’s voice and Castiel hated that he was responsible for putting it there.  

“I couldn’t, Dean.  Believe me when I tell you I wanted to.” Castiel decided to give a half truth that might coax Dean to make a confession of his own.  

“I actually wrote you many letters, Dean.  I wanted to send them.  I wasn’t sure if you’d want them after I left without saying anything.” The first parts at least were completely true.  It pained Castiel to know that Dean had wanted him to write.  To have had that knowledge for months and been unable to act on it brought a certain level of self hatred that couldn’t be assuaged by the fact that Castiel had had no control in the matter. Dean had still been hurt.  It hadn’t stopped Dean from writing to him.   

Dean looked at Castiel in surprise.  “You’re cook said you didn’t have any choice.  Why would I be mad at you for that?”

Castiel watched Dean as he considered how to express his thoughts.  “I’m not...accustomed...to having friends,” Castiel tried to explain, haltingly.  “Despite that, and while my people skills may be a little rusty, I always keep my promises.  I told you that I would come train at the palace and I couldn’t. I broke a promise and I didn’t even explain why myself. I thought anyone would be angry for that.”

“So you do consider us friends then?” Dean asked, latching on to the word and glancing at the ground between his boots.  

Castiel smiled.  He wasn’t sure why, but it was heartening to know Dean was just as uncertain as he was.  After all, Dean was not only the prince, but he was charismatic and it was hard to escape his charm.  This had become abundantly clear to Castiel during his time in Purgatory.  Dean was popular and the vast majority of the kingdom was happy with the notion that he would one day be their monarch.  Many, such as Michael, spent a great deal of time plotting how to get into his good graces.  

“Yes, Dean, I consider us friends.  And I assure you, I would have much preferred training with you in the palace to Purgatory.”  

Dean looked up again, his green eyes meeting Castiel’s and the happiness in them was clear.  

“So, did you learn a lot in Purgatory at least?” Dean’s voice held a note of distaste and Castiel recalled Dean’s opinions about the school when he had written to his brother so many months ago.  

Castiel nodded solemnly.  “I did, indeed, Dean.  There were many valuable lessons.  Would you like to hear some of what I learned?”

Dean glanced off to the side and frowned.  “I suppose,” he muttered, though Castiel could tell he was only saying it to be polite.  

Castiel nodded.  “According to one of my fellow students, you have a very nice ass.”

Dean started and looked back at Castiel in shock, his jaw dropping open.

“Another argued they had seen you take down a full sized Wendigo bare handed in a training session once - though I don’t recall a Wendigo ever being brought in to the capital city.”

Dean huffed out a snort of laughter at this point.

“One of our instructors assured us the royal family made a regular habit of weeding out the weaker Hunters by leaving them as bait for djinn.”  

Castiel continued to deadpan all the ridiculous stories he had heard about Dean, the royal family and the Hunters which he personally knew to be falsehoods.  Well, except the one about Dean’s ass.  Meg had been the one to point that detail out and Castiel did have to agree that in his sadly limited experience, it was a very attractive posterior, though he wasn’t sure how his friend would feel about such an observation.

As the list grew longer and more ludicrous, Dean nearly doubled over laughing.  “Cas, did you guys spend _any_ time training at that place? Or was the whole thing a giant gossip swap?”  

Castiel shrugged.  “We did train. Unfortunately, I was placed into a lower level class and never advanced up, so I learned very little in terms of technical skills.  Though I have perfected my repertoire of basic maneuvers so I should be able to build on that on my own.”

Dean looked at him in disbelief.  “ _You_ were put into a basic level class?  Were they blind? Or just idiots?”

Castiel was grateful Dean was so willing to defend his skills.  “I was allowed to attend the school due to the generosity of my soon to be step mother.  I believe her generosity towards the school was contingent upon whether I stayed a step or so behind her own sons.  They have aspirations about you, you know.”

Dean’s face darkened.  “Is that why you left?” he asked.  

Castiel shook his head.   He couldn’t explain about Michael’s instructions.  That came too close to breaking too many commands.  But he refused to completely lie to Dean.  “No, I’m going to a wedding.  A close family friend will be attending whom I haven’t seen since I was an infant.  There are some questions I’d like to ask her and I’m not sure when I’ll have another opportunity,” Cas explained.  

Dean nodded.  “Well then, we’ll go with you.”  


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're officially at the halfway point! :) Thank you to everyone who has read this, commented on this or seen it worthy to give kudos to. You make me smile.

Castiel started, surprised.  “That’s really not necessary, Dean.”  

Dean just grinned in response.  “Cas, you might be able to hold your own, and I have every confidence in your ability to defend yourself, but, if you haven’t noticed, this is the second time I’ve had to have your back.  It just makes it so much easier to save you if I don’t have to commute.  Besides, a little backup never hurt anyone.  That’s why Hunters move in patrols, not on their own.”

Castiel was quiet.  If they came with him, how would he hide the fact that he was looking for an angel?  Would they find out about the curse?

Dean looked at Castiel, concern clear on his face.  Castiel couldn’t tell if Dean was worried about Castiel’s safety, or if he thought perhaps Castiel’s silence meant he didn’t want to be near Dean specifically, which was as far from the truth as possible.  He couldn’t deny that he craved more of Dean’s company.  

“Let us come with you, Cas.”  And just like that, the decision was taken out of Castiel’s hands.  For once he wasn’t sure if perhaps he should be grateful to the curse.  

“Alright, Dean,” Castiel smiled a little as he acquiesced.  “Thank you,” he added, hoping to convey that he was grateful for the company.  

Dean let out a long breath and smiled back.  “C’mon, they should have the camp set up by now.”  Dean eyed Castiel’s small satchel as he stood up and raised his eyebrow.  “It doesn’t look like you’ve brought much with you in the way of food.”

Castiel felt himself blush.  “I knew I wouldn’t need much.  I’ve spent the last three months training in these woods, remember?  I know what fruits and berries are safe to eat and felt confident I could snag at least a hare for dinner if necessary.”  

“Yeah, but that means you don’t have any _pie_ ,” Dean said, just as they stepped into the clearing where the other three had managed to build a fire and spread out their supplies for an afternoon meal.  

Ash laughed outright, Victor rolled his eyes and Charlie snorted before turning to Castiel.  “The Prince has a rather well cultivated sweet tooth.  Particularly in relation to the various styles and pallets of pie.”

Based on Charlie’s tone, she could have as easily been describing the differing vintages of a fine wine.  Castiel snuck a side glance at Dean who wore a clearly affected look of offense.  Castiel realized he was smiling again and reflected that he had never felt this comfortable in such a large group of people before - though he doubted the company of four would be counted as large by most standards.  He wondered if it was the group as a whole, or Dean’s presence specifically that calmed him.

As most of the group sat on stones and fallen trees, Victor manned the fire and the spit, which contained what looked like a large wild turkey or some other form of fowl.  They laughed and joked easily and Castiel could tell that although Dean was the youngest and still technically in training, they all respected him and looked to his leadership.  

Castiel suspected a large part of that was Dean’s ability to connect with the members of his team.  He had clearly taken the time to get to know each of them individually, talking about family and even pets.  He frequently asked that they call him by his given name rather than “Prince” or “Your Highness,” though as a whole, they ignored the request with good humor.    
Castiel didn’t speak much, choosing instead to watch the play of banter between Dean and the other Hunters.  He wondered if one day he would genuinely be able to join them.  Dean was less than a year away now from being of the proper age to officially take the leadership role he was born to have.  Castiel would still have to wait a little more than two years before he could even consider being eligible to apply, his sixteenth birthday not for another month.    

Long before Castiel was ready to be on the move and hasten the end of his time with Dean, the group had packed up and prepared to leave.  Castiel held back as the Hunters prepared their mounts, painfully aware that he had been traveling on foot.  He clutched his bag closer to him, reassuring himself that Benny was still securely inside.  He felt a flash of guilt for leaving Benny in the bag all day, but he couldn’t risk revealing his secret to others.   

“Ash, Victor,” Dean said, his voice holding authority in a way it hadn’t during the meal.  “You will ride ahead back to the palace to report on the crocotta and our new destination.  Charlie will ride with me and Cas.”

Victor looked as though he was about to argue, but Dean raised his hand.  “Someone’s gotta let Captain Singer and my father know where we are.  Additionally, this area isn’t exactly known crocotta territory.  A warning needs to be put out to alert travelers and Hunters alike in case there are more hanging around.  You know Charlie has more than enough skill to watch my back.  After seeing Cas fight, do you think anything out here has a chance against us?”

“No,” Victor reluctantly agreed.  “That still doesn’t mean I have to like it.  If anything goes wrong, you know it’s my head Captain Singer’s gonna take.  It might be your job to give the orders, but it’s ours to make sure you stay alive to give them.” He pulled himself up into his saddle and called over his shoulder, “Come on, Ash.  The sooner we get out of here, the sooner these three will get on the road and back home.”  

To Castiel’s surprise, Ash shot a grin at him before he mounted.  “I expect to see you at the palace when you get back - I’ll be wanting a rematch you know.”  

Castiel grinned back.  “I look forward to the challenge.”  

After Victor and Ash had passed out of sight through the foliage, Dean turned to Castiel.  “Cas, you’ll ride with me.  Impala is more than capable of carrying us both.”

Relief swept through Castiel, followed swiftly by a nervousness that he wasn’t sure how to explain.  He glanced over at Charlie and was surprised when she grinned and winked at him as she swung one leg over her mount.

He looked back and realized Dean was already astride his own jet black horse, reaching a hand down to help pull Castiel up.  Castiel slipped his foot into the stirrup Dean had intentionally left free, grabbed Dean’s hand and hoisted himself behind his friend.  

Castiel was instantly met with a conundrum.  Where should he put his hands?  He had to hold on somehow, but it felt far too familiar to wrap his arms completely around Dean. After all, even though Dean might be his friend, he was still the Crown Prince.  There were rules against such blatant disregard for personal space.  Castiel found himself wishing he could ignore the rules.  He settled instead for placing his hands on Dean’s hips.

Without warning, Dean urged Impala forward before Castiel had fully positioned himself and the resulting jolt forced Castiel to press against Dean’s back.  Without realizing it, in an attempt to prevent himself from falling off, Castiel’s arms wound up precisely where he had been so astutely avoiding placing them.   He felt Dean’s back shake as a laugh rumbled through his chest.

“Relax, man.  It’s gonna be a pretty uncomfortable ride if you stay so tense the whole time.”  

Castiel stifled a groan.  It was exactly the kind of order that was hardest to obey.  He wanted to relax.  It certainly wasn’t by _his_ choice that he suddenly didn’t know how to behave or how to hold himself as he sat pressed up against his friend, who happened to be the heir to the kingdom.  It wasn’t _his_ choice that he suddenly noticed Dean’s scent was a cross between fresh, crisp pine and well oiled leather.  

“Dean, leave him alone.  You’re just making it worse,” Charlie chided him.  

Castiel looked over at her with a mix of feelings - a rush of gratitude followed by surprise and swept together with a stab of jealousy.  Charlie had referred to Dean as “Your Highness” while Ash and Victor were around.  What had changed?  Was there something more significant between the two?  Why did it matter to him?  He should want his friend to be happy.  

Dean chuckled again.  “Sorry, man.  But I’m still right.  Don’t worry, Impala won’t drop you.  She’s not only the fastest mount in the kingdom, she’s also the most sure-footed.”  He looked over to Charlie.

“How does Gilda stand your bossy nature anyway Charlie?”  

“Because she can recognize value and wisdom when she sees it, that’s why.  And yet you wonder why you’re still unattached?”  

Castiel listened to their exchange and felt a tightness easing in his chest he wasn’t even fully aware had formed.  Dean was unattached.  He wasn’t sure why that bit of information was important, but it was.  

“So why were Hunters patrolling Purgatory?” Castiel asked curiously.  “Usually the students of the school maintain control of the grounds - is Walker even aware you're on the lands?”

Charlie snorted her disgust as Dean shook his head.  Castiel wished he could see his friend’s expression.  

“No, and what Walker doesn’t know can’t hurt him.  We’re investigating reports of increased activities in the area - specifically raiding parties from Hellia.”  
Charlie shot Dean a pointed look.  “Dean, this is Hunter business.  How much should you be telling an outsider?”

Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but Dean beat him to the punch.  “I trust Cas, Charlie.  If I say he’s good, he’s good.”  

Charlie looked like she wanted to protest.  Instead, she closed her mouth and pursed her lips together as she eyed Castiel narrowly.  “He’d better be,” Castiel thought he heard her mumble.  

Castiel really was interested in hearing more about what Dean had to say, and at the risk of alienating Charlie, he started peppering Dean with questions - how many parties had been sited? How did they know they were from Hellia?  Did they know what the intentions behind the raids were?  

“Most of our information comes from a network of informants managed by Metatron, my father’s advisor,” Dean explained.  “So far, the information has proven to be reliable.  We’ve come across evidence of at least two raiding parties.  We’ll need to report it back to my father soon.  It’s one of the reasons I sent Ash and Victor on ahead.  This will change the relations between our two countries and might mean open conflict.  I’m afraid my father is ready to declare war now before we find out what’s prompting the raids.  I think we should ask first and fight later.  But it’s not my decision yet.”

Castiel pulled back to stare at the base of Dean’s neck in admiration, again wishing he was facing the prince from the front.  “Dean, I think you’re going to make a great king one day.”  

The small expanse of exposed skin Castiel was watching flushed a bright pinkish red at the compliment.  “Thanks, but I think you might be a little biased, Cas.  Besides, not sure everyone would agree with you.  I know Dad doesn’t think I’m ready yet.  He might have let me come out, leading a few hunts of my own, but I have a lot to learn before I’ve earned my place.”

Out of the corner of Castiel’s eye, he saw Charlie frown and look down as though she disagreed with the thought, but didn’t feel it was her place to voice her opinion.  Though Castiel already liked Charlie - she was easy to talk to and had a bright disposition - his opinion of her rose considerably in that moment.  

The rest of the day passed in comfortable camaraderie. Dean spent most of the journey talking about Prince Sam. While much of what Dean told Castiel, he already knew from Dean’s letters, Castiel was happy just to listen to Dean’s voice. They ran into nothing more complicated than finding an easy crossing for the river that ran along the edge of the woods and marked the limits of Purgatory.  The running water assured that only humans could cross, anything fey would have to remain behind them.  It didn’t keep everything in Purgatory - the river was only a barrier on this side of the wood, but it was still helpful.

It was early evening, and they were nearing the city where the wedding was to be held.  Castiel looked at the low level of the sun on the horizon and grimaced at his own naivete.  He never would have made it on time had he remained on foot.  He offered up gratitude to whomever might be listening that Dean had come across him that day.  

The city was small, barely large enough to warrant the title, but it was big enough to have a guarded wall to help prevent anything unwanted from entering while the population remained unaware.  Just as they approached the gate, they heard a thundering of hooves behind them.  Dean and Charlie both drew up their mounts, pulling slightly off to the side to allow whomever it was to pass ahead.  To their surprise, the rider halted in front of them.  

“Garth?” Dean asked, his voice laced with confusion.

“Your Highness,” Garth said, nodding his head.  Castiel saw Dean roll his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.  “You’re needed back at the palace immediately.”

Dean straightened up, alarm radiating through every inch of him.  Without thinking, Castiel tightened his arms around him in an effort to comfort and lend support.  “What’s wrong?  Is it Sammy?  The King?”

“No, sir,” Garth rushed to reassure the prince and Castiel felt Dean relax slightly.  “There have been a new series of raids along the borders.  The King is convening a council to discuss the possibility of war.”

Castiel felt a fissure of alarm.  Had the relations between Fell and Hellia really become so bad?  He wondered if news of the new raids had reached Purgatory and if so, how Meg was faring.  

Dean frowned.  He looked as though he wanted to argue something, but he held his tongue.  Castiel wondered if he feared speaking against his father in public.  

Dean turned to Castiel and smiled ruefully.  “Guess I won’t be able to see you to the wedding after all.”

“That’s all right Dean.  I understand your duties as a prince.  I’m grateful you were able to bring me this far.  Without a horse, I doubt I wouldn’t have made it on time at all.”  

“Charlie, you stay with Cas and give him a lift to wherever he’s heading next.  No, Cas, don’t argue,” Castiel closed his mouth.  

“Garth, I’ll be ready to head out in just a minute.  Can you debrief Charlie on what you know since she won’t be back for another couple of days?”

Garth nodded and moved away to talk to Charlie as Dean and Castiel dismounted.  Dean glanced at Castiel again.  “So are you going back to Purgatory, or will you go home after this?” He looked as though he was trying to ask as though the answer didn’t matter, but Castiel suspected Dean was far more interested in Castiel’s response than he was letting on.  

“I have no intention of returning to Purgatory, Dean.  Though I’m not sure my father or new stepmother will be overly pleased to have me home again.  Especially since I’ll be home three months sooner than they planned.”  

Dean grinned.  “Then depending on how this council works out, I might see you again before too long. I hope you find your relative.  And stay sharp on the ride home.  You can trust Charlie.  She’s one of the best to have your back.  Even if she does fancy herself a queen.”

The latter was said in a friendly teasing manner as Charlie walked up to join them.  Charlie gave Dean a slight shove on the shoulder.  “You just want to be my handmaiden instead of a prince.  Admit it.” Dean laughed and ruffled her hair as he turned back towards Impala.  Garth waited a few feet away, his horse prancing with a nervous energy.  

After Dean had swung into the saddle, he turned back to Castiel and Charlie one more time.  “I’ll see you both back in the royal city in a few days,” he promised.  Both Charlie and Castiel nodded and Dean spurred Impala forward as he and Garth headed back in the direction of the palace.  

“Well!” said Charlie, brightly.  “Let’s get you to a wedding!”

Castiel watched Dean’s retreating back for a few seconds more before turning to Charlie and nodding.  

“Thank you for staying with me, Charlie.  It really wasn’t necessary,” Castiel said somberly.  

“Lighten up, Cas.  It’s not a problem, trust me.  Besides, I’ve rarely seen Dean open up to someone like he does you.  I mean, he’s good with people, but he doesn’t really do _friends_ well, if you know what I mean.”  

Castiel frowned and tilted his head as they walked under the archway of the city gate, Charlie leading her horse behind them.  This was quite a different description than his experience with Dean would imply.  Why would he be special?  “You seem to get along with him quite well,” he noted, attempting to keep the envy out of his voice.  

Charlie smirked.  “I grew up with the princes, but I’m closer in age to Dean.  I’m actually too young to be a Hunter myself - I’m two months younger than Dean - but we’ve basically done everything together and I wasn’t about to let them hold me back on this.  Sam says I’m the little sister Dean never really wanted.”  

Castiel nodded.  Now that he looked at it, Charlie and Dean’s banter had seemed more like that of two close siblings rather than flirtation.  

Castiel and Charlie soon arrived at the hall where the wedding and reception were being held.  They had missed the ceremony itself, but it appeared the party was in full force with wine and ale flowing freely and raucous laughter filling the air.  

“What does your relative look like?” Charlie asked, glancing around the room.

Castiel felt his face flush.  “I don’t really know.  I was a baby the last time I saw her.”

Charlie glanced at him in surprise, but thankfully didn’t ask any questions.  

Suddenly, a silence fell, starting from the center of the crowd.  Castiel looked over and saw the reason why.  A woman had appeared in the middle of the room, her auburn hair swept back from her face and pulled up against her head in a neat style.  She wore what he supposed was intended to be a serene smile on her face.  To him it looked slightly condescending.  Her attention was clearly riveted on the two brides in front of her.  This had to be Naomi.  

The couple clearly recognized the angel.  Both wore wary expressions, clearly fearful of offending her.  

“Good day, my friends,” Naomi said cheerfully.  “What a wonderful day for a wedding, wouldn’t you agree?  I’m sorry I can’t stay long, but I wanted to express my happiness at your felicitous union.”  

“That’s really not…” one bride started to say, stopping after a sharp look of fear from her new wife.  “Thank you,” she said instead, the sound barely a whisper.  

“Nonsense,” Naomi replied, a bright, almost too perfect smile plastered in place as though she was accustomed to placating those around her.  “It’s the least an angel can do.  After all, our mission has always been to _help_ mankind.”  She held a hand to her chin as she considered the couple in front of her.  Both brides visibly struggled to stand still and keep their expressions neutral but Castiel looked down and noticed their hands were clasped tightly together.  

“Ah!” Naomi said, clapping her palms together in front of her, almost as though she were praying.  “I have the perfect gift.  It’s clear you love each other very much.  I can’t improve upon that.  So instead, I will guarantee that you will never be apart!”

Naomi positively beamed and Castiel waited for her to finish the gift.  How would she guarantee the couple would never be apart?  What was the catch?  But Naomi just continued to smile, seemingly having finished what she intended to do.  That really didn’t seem to be such a horrible gift.  Certainly better than obedience.  Many of the other guests were looking at the couple in horror though.  The brides looked stunned.  

Castiel decided to use this moment of distraction to talk to Naomi and took a step forward.  As soon as he did, there was a rustle and a breeze and Naomi was gone.  Castiel stared at the empty space in front of him stunned until he heard a low whistle next to him, startling him out of his trance.  

He glanced over to see that Charlie still stood next to him.  She looked at the spot where Naomi had stood before shifting her gaze to the couple.  The shorter of the brides had burst into tears while her new wife attempted to comfort her.  

“That poor couple,” Charlie murmured.  Castiel frowned.  

“I don’t understand, the gift didn’t seem that bad,” he said.  

Charlie raised an eyebrow.  “Cas, they can _never be apart_.  Yes, they love each other.  That much is obvious.  But I’ll bet they each have their own little pet peeves about each other.  Maybe one of them grinds her teeth, maybe the other whistles out of key.  On occasion, those things might be endearing.  But imagine if you could never walk out of the room when your lover started to get under your skin.  Eventually, you would start to resent them.  You would resent never having  a moment to yourself to contemplate why you loved them so much to begin with.”

Understanding washed over Castiel.  The gift didn’t mean their marriage was guaranteed.  It meant the couple would be glued to each other’s side until one or both of them died.  He looked over at them and felt a wave of sympathy wash over him.  It was followed quickly by the abrupt reminder that Naomi had gone.  He had missed her - and possibly his only chance to get the spell removed.  

He let out an enormous sigh and felt his shoulders slump.  

“Hey, Cas, you ok?” Charlie asked, concern clearly lacing her voice.  

“I’m fine, thank you, Charlie.  I just realized my relative is no longer here.  I’ve come all this way and dragged you away from your duties for nothing.  I’m sorry.”  

Castiel almost flinched in surprise when he felt a small hand settle between his shoulder blades.  Charlie rubbed his back gently in what was clearly intended to be a comforting manner.  “Hey, man.  It’s ok.  I seriously don’t mind.  I’ve never seen an angel in action and Dean and the King should probably know about this anyway.  I’ve heard of Naomi before, but that was something else.”  

Castiel glanced over at her.  Charlie’s eyes were still glued to the young couple, though they were now mostly blocked from view.  Her look was one of concern rather than intrigue or fascination with the idea of an angelic gift.  

After a moment, she seemed to come to herself.  She stopped the small rubbing motions and clapped Castiel on the back instead.  “So, Cas, what do you say we book rooms for the night?  It’s too late to start heading back and we’ll be camping out most nights.  It’ll be nice to have a roof over our head at least once.”

Castiel nodded.  He noted Charlie’s emphasis on the the plural.  He suspected she, like him, was considering the sudden value of privacy.  

“That’s a good idea, Charlie.”

Fortunately it was easier than expected to find rooms.  The wedding party broke up fairly quickly after the presentation of Naomi’s gift and few seemed interested in staying longer.  

As soon as Castiel was safely in his own room, he pulled Benny out of his bag.  Benny was not on the cover, but Castiel left the book out anyway.  He readied himself for bed, suddenly exhausted.  This morning he had woken up in Purgatory.  Since then, he had reunited with Dean, found and lost Naomi and by tomorrow, he would be on his way home again.  

He hoped he would see Dean again soon.  As Castiel fell asleep, he wondered what Dean would have thought of such a gift.


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel and Charlie’s trip home proved to be entirely uneventful.  To Castiel’s disappointment, Dean had been sent back out on patrol before they returned; this time with the explicit instructions to watch for raiding parties and recruit citizens for a potential conflict.  

Of course, Castiel found all this out through Benny. Details like these would be considered dangerous in many hands and Castiel was sure it wasn’t meant to go beyond the King’s council.  Anna assured him Benny could only show him things he was meant to see, so while none of them knew why Castiel had become privy to state secrets, they didn’t question it either.  

As predicted, Lilith was furious to find Castiel had left Purgatory.  At Castiel’s request, Charlie didn’t let slip that Castiel had met Dean on the journey home.  He was grateful for her discretion.  He could only imagine the fallout if Lilith, Michael, or even Lucifer found out more about his relationship with Dean.  

Fortunately, the months between his arrival home and the wedding moved quickly.  Castiel found himself on his own, practicing various hunting techniques, familiarizing himself with the angel sword Dean had left him.  The balance was perfect and felt as though it was made to fit his hand.  In addition to his training, Castiel helped Anna in the kitchen as she prepared for the event. Michael and Lucifer came home approximately a week before the nuptials were scheduled to take place.  Neither seemed particularly driven to lower themselves to the level of staff in order to patronize Castiel, so as long as he stayed in the kitchen, he was relatively safe.  

There was no escaping his new family the night of the wedding itself.  In the span of an hour, Michael had ordered Castiel to fetch him two drinks, a slice of cake, and to dance with a young woman he had promised to dance with, but on further reflection decided he would rather not.  

Castiel cringed.  He wasn’t the greatest of dancers, nor did he have any interest in the young woman he now found in his arms.  She was of average height he supposed, though he himself had recently experienced a growth spurt, so he wasn’t sure whether he could judge his own perspective of size anymore.  Her hair was blonde and straight and she exuded an almost sugary sweet personality.  

“Are you sure your brother isn’t free for any other dances tonight?” she asked Castiel, a hint of sadness in her voice.  

“Lady Rebeckah...”  

“Oh, please just call me Becky.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think he will be.”

Castiel winced as she stepped on his toes.  He wasn’t sure if it was his poor ability to lead, her poor ability to follow or an intentional attempt to show her displeasure at his answer.  Whatever the reason, Castiel was grateful when the music ended and he could politely excuse himself.  

Glancing around to make sure Michael did not see him, Castiel slipped out of the ballroom and into the nearly empty foyer.  He hurried up the staircase, moving down the hall toward the old attic bedroom.  The room was intended for a servant, but had not held one for quite some time.  Castiel had discovered it was a good place to hide when necessary, since everyone’s eyes, except perhaps Anna’s, slid over the door as though it didn’t exist.  After all, it was connected to a room intended for someone beneath them.  

The doorway was situated at the far end of the second floor landing and opened up to another narrow staircase leading almost straight upwards.  The room itself was situated directly under the eaves of the house, so drafts, birds and bats were all common.  Castiel didn’t mind though.  There was one small, round window out of which Castiel could observe the comings and goings of the guests with ease.  He sat on the dusty bed and watched the ebb and flow of people below.  

Suddenly he sat up straighter.  Perhaps it was his imagination, but he was sure he recognized the flash of auburn hair that slipped through the front door.  Hurriedly, Castiel ran back down the stairs leading to the room, only to bring himself to a halt at the banister.  He couldn’t ask Naomi to break the curse here.  If she refused, there were too many witnesses whom he knew he could not afford to have knowing his secret.  Too many of them already did.

Cautiously, he slipped down the main staircase and stood in the shadows by the door leading to the ballroom so he could observe without being observed.  He watched as the angel moved forward to stand before the couple at the center of the room.  

Unlike the previous wedding Naomi and Castiel had both attended, Carver and Lilith seemed delighted at the prospect of an angelic gift.  Lilith’s eyes especially had taken on a greedy gleem.  Castiel watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as Naomi bestowed her blessing.  

“Carver and Lilith, such a lovely couple.  I know this was a marriage more of convenience for both of you.  But no marriage could be complete without true love.  Therefore, I grant you that very gift, rare as it is.  May the love between you burn bright for all eternity.”  

Castiel could mark the moment his father and Lilith understood the weight of Naomi’s gift.  Carver’s face froze into a mask that would have seemed as though he was pleased if it wasn’t for it’s unnatural stillness.  Lilith was more dramatic.  

“What have you _done_?!” she cried, her face dropping into a glare that might well open the gates of hell if she wasn’t looking directly at an angel.  “I don’t need love, I don’t _want_ to love him!”

Naomi simply smiled and made a tsking sound.  When she spoke, it was in a tone similar to one used to address a small child.  “I know dear.  That’s the value of my gift.  You can never know true happiness without love.  Now I have given it to you both.  In time, you will grow to appreciate it.” With that, Naomi vanished - just as suddenly and spectacularly as she had done at the previous wedding.  Castiel had begun to suspect it was her way of leaving a signature.

Dame Lilith screeched her displeasure, actually going so far as to stamp her foot.  Carver heaved a sigh and looked at the new love of his life.  “Well my dearest heart, I looks like we have no choice but to suffer - but at least we’ll be happy about it.”

Dame Lilith merely screeched again and turned to stomp away, most unladylike, towards the punch table.  

Castiel realized then how exposed he was.  Quickly, he backed away from the door  and hurried back up the stairs to the refuge of the servants quarters. This time, he didn’t bother ascending the attic staircase.  Instead, he shut the door to the hallway behind him and leaned heavily against it, thinking.  

Perhaps that wasn’t _such_ a bad gift.  Castiel hoped that one day when he married, he would love whomever he was destined to spend the rest of his life with.  He shook his head.  He knew all too well how horrible it felt to be forced into something against your will.  When he fell in love, he wanted it to be true, and equally returned.  He wasn’t sure why Dean’s face floated unbidden to his mind.  

Just as he started to question the stray thought, Castiel found himself falling backwards.  Someone had opened the door and since Castiel was still pressed against it, he was sent tumbling out and into the arms of whomever waited on the other side.  

Castiel saw a flash of a dark green silk waistcoat before he heard a low chuckle and felt a slight squeeze on his waist as his benefactor helped him upright.  Castiel cast his eyes down, a flush creeping up his neck at the realization he’d been caught - in more ways than one.  His only relief came from knowing that Michael had been wearing a black waistcoat rather than green.  

“You ok there, man?”  At the sound of a familiar voice, Castiel’s gaze shot up to meet smiling green eyes.  

“Dean?”

“Last I checked,” Dean chuckled.  “What were you doing in here?”  Dean stepped beyond Castiel and glanced up the stairwell.  

“Avoiding my new family,” he admitted.  

Dean frowned.  “Aren’t you excited to have brothers?”

The laugh that came out of Castiel was entirely involuntary.  “I assure you, I am no more excited to be their brother than they are to be mine.  You should probably watch out for Michael yourself actually.  He’d be far more excited by your presence than mine.”  

Dean raised an eyebrow, “I take it your new brother has a prince thing?”

“Something like that,” Castiel confirmed.  

“Well then, it looks like you found the perfect hiding spot for us,” Dean grinned and tilted his chin upwards towards the stairs, indicating for Castiel to lead the way.

Castiel looked at Dean in surprise for a moment before moving.  He would never understand what Dean saw in him, why he seemed to continue to enjoy his presence.  There was nothing special about Castiel aside from his curse, and that was hardly a good thing.  

Shrugging, Castiel moved up the staircase. He decided he should just enjoy having a friend, even if the friendship baffled him.  When he reached the attic room, Castiel moved to sit on the narrow bed, leaning his back against the wall.

Dean walked over and sat next to him, mimicking his position.  

“I thought you were on patrol,” Castiel said, looking at Dean.

“We were.  I was able to convince my father that there needed to be some royal presence at this wedding though.  After all, your mother was nobility.”  Dean grinned as he looked at Castiel.  “I might have volunteered for the task.”  

Castiel smiled, even though he still felt a twinge in his chest at the mention of his mother.  “I can assure you, my father will be more than pleased you are here.  As will Dame Lilith and her sons.”

Dean’s continued to smile but his eyes looked a little hurt.  “Are they the only ones happy I’m here?”  

Castiel looked directly at Dean as he responded, “No.  I’m glad you’re here too.  I’ve missed you.  I was disappointed when I arrived back in the city only to learn you were gone again.”  

“Yeah?” Dean asked, nudging Castiel with his knee.  “Well, you still didn’t _write,_ ” Dean accused good naturedly.  

Castiel looked at him in surprise.  “Where would I post a letter to if you’re constantly moving on patrol?”

“Address it to me.  I promise, the palace has a way of passing along messages, even on patrol.  Besides, my duties are done now, I’m on my way home.”

Castiel felt a flare of happiness at the prospect of Dean being back in the city again.  Dean’s next words cut Castiel’s joy short.

“I won’t be here long.  Father and Metatron have been working on a deal with King Crowley.  Father and I are to lead a delegation to Hellia in two days to work out a final treaty.”

Castiel frowned.  It didn’t feel like a strategically sound plan for both the King and the Crown Prince to lead an expedition into known hostile territory.  

Dean seemed to read the expression on Castiel’s face.  “Don’t worry, Cas.  Metatron is going to look after things here as Steward.  There’s nothing Crowley can gain.  Even if something goes wrong, Sam is still here.  He’s young, but he can do it.”

“I thought you said Sam didn’t want to rule?”

Dean looked surprised.  “You remember that?”  

Castiel frowned and tilted his head as he looked at Dean.  “Of course I remember, why wouldn’t I?”

“Usually people only really listen to me if they’re required to,” Dean explained.  “I’m the crown prince, so people are supposed to follow my orders, but they don’t really listen to _me_ ,” he attempted to explain.  

Castiel thought of Michael and nodded.  Michael was obsessed with his idea of who Dean was, but Castiel knew that wasn’t the real Dean.  He had often wondered how Michael could conceive of such a personality - one so different from reality.  He supposed if Michael simply crafted the personality he wanted and placed Dean’s face on it, he considered it good enough.  

Both friends lapsed into silence.  Castiel tried not to think about the fact that Dean would be leaving again so soon.  He couldn’t quell the churning in his gut that told him something about this embassy to Hellia was a trap of some kind.  He supposed he was overreacting.  Dean didn’t seem concerned and it was most likely his selfish desire to keep Dean at the palace for a while longer.

Dean seemed to sense that Castiel was slipping into a melancholy.

“You know, Cas, I don’t think we’re doing this whole wedding ball thing right.”

Castiel looked at Dean in confusion.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not sure about this, but I do believe that when you’re at a ball, you’re supposed to dance.”  

Castiel thought back to his earlier dance with Lady Rebeckah and panicked slightly.  “I’m not a very good dancer, Dean,” he tried to insist.  

“Doesn’t matter, Cas. It’s all in having the right partner.  And music.” Dean tilted his head to hear the faint, yet audible strains that filtered up to them from below.  “This isn’t the best, but it’ll do in a pinch.” He stood up off the bed and grinned, reaching his hand out to Castiel.  “C’mon, Cas.  Dance with me.”

It was an order, even if Dean didn’t mean for it to be one.  

Reluctantly, Castiel stood up and took Dean’s hand.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to dance with Dean.  He realized in fact, that he very much so _did_ want to dance with the prince.  But he was terrified he would disappoint his friend.  

Dean paid Castiel’s obvious nervousness no mind.  Instead, he placed one of Castiel’s hands on his shoulder, and held the other in his own hand.  Castiel had to remind himself to breathe when Dean placed his free hand at the apex of Castiel’s waist, gently brushing the small of his back.  

Together they easily fell into a simple waltz, Castiel following the instructions given through Dean’s hand on his waist.  When the music finally ended, Castiel felt light headed.  He wasn’t sure if it was caused by excessive spinning or Dean himself.  Either way, Castiel found he liked the feeling.  

Dean glanced down and looked as though he was about to say something, when he stopped and sent a distracted look to Castiel’s waist.  Castiel looked down to see what had caught Dean’s attention.  It was then he remembered he was wearing the angel blade in a ceremonial sheathe at his side.  

Something in Dean’s gaze seemed to soften as he recognized the gift.  “You like it then?” Dean asked, almost hesitantly.  

Castiel didn’t understand the source of Dean’s uncertainty.  “Of course I like it.  It’s a marvelous blade, and it came from you.  I would have to actively work to _not_ like it.”  

Dean smiled wider, “Good.”  The single word was spoken with a heavy level of satisfaction.

A clock chimed below.  Midnight.  Dean’s face fell a little.

“I should go,” he said.

Dean moved towards the door and Castiel nodded as he followed, not sure what to say, but knowing he didn’t want Dean to leave.  “Promise me you’ll be careful on your mission?” Castiel asked.  

Dean smiled.  “Of course!  Remember, this is a peacekeeping mission - not a declaration of war.  Now I’m going to ask _you_ something.”

Castiel looked at Dean questioningly.  

“Write to me?” The tone let Castiel know Dean was asking a question, but the phrasing was a command.  Castiel’s face broke into a true smile.  If Dean had actually asked as a question, Castiel would have had to say no.  But the order negated Michael’s command.  Castiel would have to be careful Michael didn’t find out, but Castiel was now free to write Dean whenever he pleased.  

“I would be happy to, Dean.”  He and Dean continued to walk down the hallway to the main staircase where they paused at the top.   

Castiel hadn’t even realized how tense Dean had become until he let out a breath on a happy laugh.  

“I just have one requirement,” Castiel said.  

Dean looked a little worried, but just nodded.

“Would you please address them to Anna?  And perhaps use a different name?  As I said, my new brother is rather obsessed with you.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he chose to check my mail.  But if you send it to Anna, it will arrive without interruption.”  Mostly, Castiel knew, because she would insist he read them to her later.  

Dean grinned again.  “No problem.  We’ll be undercover correspondents.”  When neither moved to head down the lower flight of stairs, Dean looked at Castiel mischievously.  

“So, Cas.  When was the last time you tried sliding down a stair rail?”  Dean asked.  

“I don’t understand, Dean.”  

Dean looked at him incredulously.  “You mean to tell me you’ve never gone flying down a stairwell?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied.  

“Oh, well it’s a good thing there’s a first time for everything.”

Castiel looked dubiously into the lobby below.  “Well, it _does_ seem to be a faster route down.”

With that, Dean mounted the wide oak barrier, one leg straddling either side with his face up to Castiel so he would be riding down backwards.  Dean let go and he slid easily down to the bottom of the stairs.  “ _Ha_ ,” Dean said triumphantly.  “C’mon, Cas, do you think you can beat me? Style or speed?”

Castiel grinned at the challenge.  “Well, I can certainly try.”

Castiel climbed onto the rail the same way he had seen Dean do it.  When he let go, it felt for a split second as though he had left his stomach at the starting point.  He was _flying_!  Castiel imagined this must be how birds felt.  

As he neared the bottom a mild panic set in.  He didn’t know how to stop. Just as Castiel was sure he was going to go flying off the railing and make a fool of himself, he felt someone’s arms wrap around his middle a pull him close.  

Dean had caught him before he could fall.  

Any hope at breath left Castiel’s lungs for a brief moment.  Then both Dean and Castiel started laughing, long and hard, Dean’s arms still wrapped around Castiel’s waist.  As Dean dropped Castiel so his feet hit the ground, both turned to see Castiel’s new family framed in the doorway wearing mixed expressions of shock, confusion and anger.  

Dean attempted to put a more sober expression on his face, but failed miserably.  He bowed to Carver, gasping out words between his laughter.  “Congratulations...sir...on your...marriage.  I hope...you have...a...very...happy life...together,” he wheezed out.  

“Thank you, Your Highness. We are honored to have a member of the royal family grace us with his presence.”  Castiel fought the urge to roll his eyes at his father’s obvious attempt at flattery.  

Lilith stepped forward. “I would love the opportunity to introduce you to my son, Michael,” she simpered.

Dean shot a wary look in Castiel’s direction, no doubt remembering Castiel’s earlier description of his new brother.  Unfortunately, the glance did not go unnoticed by Michael.  Castiel willed his face to remain neutral.  He was sure his step-brother would find a way to make him pay for that later.  For now, Michael stepped forward and offered Dean a bow barely deep enough to be polite when addressing a prince before extending his hand as though addressing an equal.  

Castiel knew Dean well enough to know he would prefer the more informal interaction, but it still made Castiel bristle in anger.  He was well aware that Michael didn’t act as he did to make Dean more comfortable, but rather as a test, challenging Dean to put Michael in his place.  

Dean, who was either unaware of Michael’s ulterior motives or chose not to play the game, reached out and shook the proffered hand.  Castiel did notice, to his satisfaction, that Dean dropped the handshake a fraction too early.  The thin line that appeared on Michael’s brow revealed the implication was not lost on him.

Nodding his head once more, Dean bid farewell to the group at large before turning to Castiel again.  “See you later, Cas.  I’ll try and stop by before we have to leave.” He flashed Castiel a smile that Castiel couldn’t help but return, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach.  Now that Michael knew Dean planned to come back, there was no chance he would risk letting Castiel see him.  

Once Dean had left, Lilith turned to Carver.  “My love,” she purred, her face twisting in distaste as the words came out of her mouth.  “Now that we’re married, exactly how rich are we?”

Castiel’s face froze, his attention now on his father and stepmother.  Apparently, his father had not been entirely truthful about their circumstances when wooing the Lady Lilith.  

“We are just as wealthy as we were before, jewel of my heart.”  Like Lilith, Carver looked as though the terms of endearment made him slightly ill.  

“Yes, but how wealthy is that?” Lilith asked, her voice dripping affection her face did not reflect.

“My dear one,” Carver began, bracing himself.  Castiel braced himself too.  “I’m afraid all the fortune is yours.  You see, I am rather destitute at the moment,” Carver said.  “Writing is hard,” he attempted to explain.  Whatever else he might have said in his own defense was drowned by Lilith’s shrieks.  

“ _Destitute?_ ” She cried in fury. “Oh my sweet how I wish I could hate you right now!  You _lied_ to me.  How could you do this?  Oh my most cherished one, I could kill you right now if I didn’t love you so very much!”

The mix of endearments and threats continued as Castiel turned to flee to the kitchen.  Fortunately, as soon as the door was shut, Lilith’s screeches were dulled to a muted roar.  

Anna looked up at Castiel.  “So I suppose your father just revealed the true state of his coffers?”

Castiel nodded, “You could say she’s not taking it so well.  Apparently, she thought she was marrying up.”

Anna pursed her lips but didn’t look surprised.  “You’re going to need to be careful, Castiel.”

He looked at her surprised.  “What do you mean?”

Anna shot him an exasperated look as though Castiel was being intentionally dense.  “Michael knows your secret, as does Lucifer.  How long do you think it will be before they tell Lilith?  Particularly when all three of them will be less than happy with your father and would revel in an excuse to take it out on either him or, by extension, you.”  

Castiel frowned, angry that he had not thought of that possibility himself.  There was very little he could do to stop whatever was coming.  If he was honest with himself, he was still more concerned about Dean and his mission to Hellia.  There was only so much his new family could do to him.  He would deal with it when it became necessary.  There was nothing he could do to help Dean, and the conditions surrounding the talks still made Castiel wary.  He was sure more was going on than what appeared on the surface.  

To appease Anna, Castiel nodded and acknowledged that yes, he would be careful, though he knew that if Michael wanted to give him an order, he would have no choice.  

 

* * *

 

As Castiel predicted, the next morning Michael came into his room and commanded him to stay there the entire day, quietly, no matter who came to call.  Even though it was expected, Castiel found it very difficult to sit still as he watched Dean ride up to the house.  Michael’s voice drifted up the stairs as he welcomed Dean, blatantly telling Dean that Castiel had stepped out for a moment, but was sure to return soon.  Dean was of course welcome to wait in the sitting room.  

Their voices faded as Dean followed Michael.  Castiel paced his room, anxious to know what Michael was saying to Dean and what Dean thought of his non-appearance.  After all, Dean had told Castiel he would be coming by sometime today.  After an hour, it was clear Castiel would not be putting in an appearance and Dean’s voice again drifted up the stairs as he spoke to Michael.

“Thanks for your hospitality, but I really have to be going.  My father is expecting me.  Tell Cas I stopped by and I’m sorry I missed him.”  

“I will, Dean.  I do apologize for my brother.  He does seem to be quite the unreliable type.”

By the doorframe of his room, out of sight, Castiel gritted his teeth.  He yearned for nothing more than to run downstairs and talk to Dean.  At the very least to tell him again to be careful.

At the sound of the door closing, Castiel moved to the window to watch Dean’s back as he rode away.  Without warning, Dean stopped Impala and turned, looking directly up to Castiel’s window.  Castiel froze, unsure whether he should hide or acknowledge Dean in some way.  It was clear though, that Dean had already seen him.  Hiding now would only confirm any belief in Dean’s head that Castiel was avoiding him.  So instead, Castiel raised a hand and waved, hoping that Dean would see and understand.  

Dean looked at him for a moment, a small frown marring his face before he turned and continued back towards the castle.  

Castiel’s arm dropped, his heart like a stone in his chest.  


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, two days after the wedding, Castiel looked out his window to see a carriage waiting.  He went downstairs and found his father in his study, hurriedly stuffing papers into a satchel with a trunk already by the door.  

“You’re leaving so soon?” Castiel asked surprised.  

Carver closed his eyes and twisted his face.  “As much as I love my darling new wife, Castiel, I think it will be far better for me if I love her at a distance.  Most specifically, it will be far better for my eardrums. I shall love her for all eternity, and I know it would give me great pains if I suddenly came upon an irresistible urge to throttle her.”

Castiel frowned.  He had counted somewhat on his father’s presence to temper whatever Michael, Lucifer and Lilith chose to do with their knowledge of the curse - if only because he doubted they would want to include him and would attempt to make their commands too obviously known.  He shouldn’t have been surprised though.  His father had rarely been around as he grew up.  His decision to leave Castiel to fend for himself now was hardly new.

“When will you come back?” Castiel asked, tentatively hoping this time, the absence would not be long term.  

“As far from now as I can possibly make it,” Carver replied grimly, closing his satchel and heading to the door to find a footman to load the trunk.  Castiel turned on his heel without a word and made his way to the kitchen.  He knew at least Anna wouldn’t abandon him.  

Within five minutes of his father’s departure, Lilith stormed into the kitchen, Michael and Lucifer closely behind her.  Clearly her fury over Carver’s attempts to hide their woeful financial status had not diminished overnight.  

“Why am I not surprised to find you here with the servants, Castiel?” she snarled upon spotting him.  Michael grinned maliciously behind her.  Apparently he too was bitter about this sudden new state of affairs.  

“Perhaps he should stay here in the kitchen since he so clearly prefers being a servant,” Michael suggested.   

Lucifer watched from the sidelines, a glint of mischief in his eyes, though for the moment, he seemed content to merely observe.  

“It would serve him right.  After all, it’s my money that’s going to support this godforsaken house now,” Lilith spat, as though Castiel was not standing right next to her.  “Though after the stunt he pulled, running away from the school I paid for for him to attend, I don’t know that I would trust him as a servant.”

Michael’s smile widened, “Oh don’t worry, Mother.  Castiel can be quite...obedient.”  

Castiel felt Anna stiffen next to him and he wished he could shrink in on himself.  This was his worst nightmare come true.  Lilith narrowed her eyes at Michael, clearly sensing he knew more than he was revealing.  “What do you mean, Michael? Don’t play games, I’m not in the mood for it today.”

“I mean, Mother, that Castiel must obey any direct order.  I don’t know why, but I know it’s true.  Watch.” He looked at Castiel, “Touch your toes, Brother.”

Castiel did, clenching his teeth to hold back a comment that would only result in another humiliating command.  

Lilith looked delighted, almost as though this discovery made up for her losing an anticipated fortune.  “Well, well.  This is an unexpected surprise.  Castiel, fetch me a fresh biscuit with honey.”

Castiel turned to obey.  He had moved from clenching his teeth to biting his tongue, the sharp pain a welcome distraction from the buzzing fury in his ears.

Once Castiel had handed her the biscuit, drizzled with honey, Lilith crowed in delight.  “Oh this is perfect.  Alright Castiel, since you seem as suited to the task as you are clearly unsuited to be a member of the aristocracy, from now on you will act and live as a servant in this house.  I expect you to move your belongings to the attic quarters within the hour.  Lucifer let out a bark of laughter, clearly reveling in any misery found around him.  

Proclamation made, Lilith turned and swept out of the room, Michael and Lucifer following her.  Castiel turned to Anna, the frustration he felt inside was mirrored in the anger on her face.  “How dare she, that uppity…,” Anna stopped and took a deep breath.  “Don’t worry Castiel, this isn’t a permanent problem.”  

Castiel merely shrugged, not seeing a way out of his situation.  Being treated as a servant didn’t bother him, after all, Anna was far more his family than Lilith and her sons - or even his own father.  Nor did he mind moving to the attic bedroom.  What he minded was the further loss of control and his utter lack of free will, and to someone as spiteful as Lilith.  

By noon that day he had his belongings moved to the attic room.  As he had been given no further instructions for the day, Castiel decided to stay in the room until someone made the effort to find him.  

He chose to spend his time writing a letter to Dean.  Fortunately, Michael didn’t know Dean had counteracted his initial command.  As long as Castiel was careful, he should be able to write without interruption.  

~~~~

~~_Dear Dean_ ~~

 

Castiel scratched out the greeting.  Dear seemed at once too formal and too intimate.  Especially since the last time Castiel had seen Dean, it had been with a frown on his face.  Perhaps he thought Castiel had intentionally avoided him.   Would he be angry?  But how should Castiel start the letter?  In the end, he decided simple was better.

 

_Dean,_

_I hope this letter reaches you and finds you safe and well.  I’m sorry I missed you when you came to say goodbye.  Dame Lilith was upset with me for leaving the ball early without permission and as punishment, my father forbade me from leaving my room.  I assure you I did want to see you before you left.  I think you might have spotted me waving from my window, but I’m not positive._

_How are the peace negotiations going?  Have you made it to King Crowley’s palace yet?  What is Hellia like? I had a friend once from Hellia, but she didn’t talk about home much. Keep an eye out for hell hounds.  Is it true King Crowley has actually managed to domesticate some?_

_I’m sorry my first letter is so short.  I don’t appear to have the makings of a very good writer - a trait that seems to run in my family._

_I hope you aren’t angry with me for not seeing you off and will still write back.  If you do, remember to address the letter to Anna and it will reach me._

_Your Friend,_

_Cas_

 

Castiel smiled at his abbreviated signature before folding and addressing the letter.

 

* * *

 

The next week passed slowly and without a response to Castiel’s letter.  Perhaps Dean didn’t believe Castiel’s story.  Castiel decided if that were true, it was certainly preferable to something happening to Dean on his journey.  

Castiel’s days took on a routine.  It was a good thing he had learned to become a morning person during his time at Purgatory as he now found himself waking far earlier than even he was accustomed to in order to fetch eggs from the henhouse and make sure the horses were fed and their stalls mucked.  He would clean himself as best as possible before hurrying inside to help Anna with breakfast.   On more than one occasion, Anna had kicked him right back out of her kitchen to clean himself more thoroughly.  

Michael made a point of coming by at least twice a day to give Castiel a command.  Sometimes it was something as simple as pouring him a glass of milk, other times he would order Castiel to do a specific, yet trying task; such as when he requested Castiel climb the tree to the rear of the house to reach a particular apple.  Castiel came to expect this and managed well enough.  

In the end, it was Lucifer that was the most exasperating for Castiel to handle.  Lucifer, it turned out, constantly needed to be entertained.  In Castiel’s previous interactions with him, he had always been amused enough by those around him that it wasn’t a noticeable trait.  In the solitude of the house, however, Lucifer often made himself at home while Castiel helped Anna prepare the next meal.  

One particularly dreary morning, Lucifer plopped onto a stool situated near the large island in the center of the room.  “I’m bored,” he whined.  “Tell me a story.”  So of course Castiel had to tell a story.  Unfortunately, he didn’t have a very imaginative childhood and so he had very little to depend on in terms of personal experience.  He tried to think back to the tales his mother had told him.  Eventually, he settled on the story of how the angels fell.  

Castiel settled into a rhythm as he kneaded dough while relating the history of the angels.  He let his words flow with the push and pull of his hands and it settled his thoughts and pulled them away from the many reasons why he might not have heard from Dean.  

Fortunately, the story seemed to satisfy Lucifer for the day and when Castiel finished, he got up and wandered off - probably to pester Michael.  Castiel was grateful for the relative quiet and the opportunity to rest his throat.  The telling had taken the better part of two hours and Castiel realized he was exhausted.  

Anna seemed to notice as well.  She pointedly looked in the direction of a chair and said, “Sit.”

Castiel would have protested, but even if he wasn’t cursed, he wouldn’t have been able to argue with Anna.  Once he sat down, he became keenly aware of the muscles in his lower back screaming with the relief.  He sighed and closed his eyes, only to open them again at the sound of a soft plop! on the table.

In front of him lay a folded letter, sealed with red wax pressed with the image of an apple.  On the opposite side, in tight, neat script, read, _To Anna Milton, from Wesson Smith_.  

“I presume it’s from your prince as I am unfamiliar with a Wesson Smith.”

Castiel stared at the letter in front of him, a mix of emotions warring inside. Dean

had written back!  What would he have to say? Would he ask Castiel not to write again?  Did he believe Castiel’s story about why he hadn’t said goodbye?  Had he forgiven Castiel?  Castiel supposed there was only one way to find out.  With more than a small level of trepidation, he lifted the letter and slid his finger under the seal.  

“Not here you foolish boy!  Go to your room to read it.  What would happen if any of your stepfamily were to come in while you’re sitting here reading a letter from someone you aren’t supposed to be communicating with?”  Anna looked at him with what was clearly fond exasperation.  

Nodding, Castiel tucked the letter inside his shirt and went upstairs to his new room.  Once there, he opened the letter and began reading.  

 

_Cas,_

_I’m sorry to hear you were punished for leaving what I recall being an incredibly boring party.  At least, it was before I found you hiding in the attic.  I was worried maybe you were in trouble for sliding down the banister.  Since I was the one who suggested it, I felt bad.  I have to admit, I was also a little worried maybe you were mad at me about something.  Glad to hear you’re ok though._

_We finally made it to Crowley’s palace.  You’re right, he has domesticated several hell hounds.  They’re really rather creepy.  You can’t see them of course, so you’ll just hear this shuffling behind you before feeling something very cold brush by.  I always feel like they’re just waiting for the order to rip me to shreds.  After all, wild hell hounds are one of the most vicious creatures out there.  I suppose it’s a show of power to tame them, but I wouldn’t trust them myself._

_As you can guess, I can’t discuss the negotiations.  I mean, I trust you, that’s not why I can’t say anything.  In case this letter is intercepted, I have to stay quiet for now.  So far though, I haven’t been useful for much and I wonder why I was included.  My opinion clearly doesn’t carry any weight and I’m often not even allowed into the room, so even if I could tell you, I’d only be able to tell you a little._

_It’s very hot here all the time.  I mean, I knew Hellia had a much warmer climate since they’re to the south of us and all, but I wasn’t expecting this.  Not really sure how Crowley manages to stay in his full regal attire and not break a sweat._

_And look at what a great correspondent I’ve turned out to be, reduced to talking about the weather.  I hope your punishment is complete.  Are you still training?  I’m looking forward to the day we’re both Hunters._

_Your friend,_

_Dean_

 

Castiel sighed in relief.  Dean was safe and clearly not angry with him.  He immediately moved to his trunk, which held the meager amount of belongings Lilith had deemed he was allowed to bring with him to the attic, and pulled out a clean sheet of paper and a pen.  He wanted to write Dean back immediately.  He knew if he waited, he wasn't likely to get another break until later that evening and he preferred not to write by candle light.  

 

_Dean,_

_I am glad to hear you're well.  I’m sorry you aren’t allowed to participate more in the negotiations.  How are you occupying your time in the palace otherwise?  Aside from avoiding hell hounds of course._

 

Castiel paused, looking at what he had written and stumped as to what to say next.  There was very little about his current life that he wanted to reveal in a letter.  What could he say?  He was a servant in his own home.  While he didn’t think Dean would turn his nose up at Castiel for performing manual labour, Castiel did suspect Dean would want to know why Castiel had let himself be put at such a level.  Castiel couldn’t explain the curse and trying to do so would simply lead to more lies.  The last thing he wanted to do was to lie to Dean.  After another moment of hesitation, Castiel began writing again.

 

_Today we had venison stew for lunch with fresh baked bread.  Sadly, there was no pie.  I know, you would think this a travesty on the part of the kitchen, but truly, my stepfamily is not overly fond of sweets.  Therefore I too, must live without._

_Since you can’t talk about the negotiations, tell me more about yourself.  Are there any favorite stories from your childhood?  Was there ever a time when you wished you weren’t a prince?  What about Sam?_

_Your friend,_

_Cas_

 

Castiel looked at the salutation line.  “Your friend,” didn’t seem to fit.  He was Dean’s friend, and was proud of that.  But it didn’t feel like enough.  Castiel wasn’t sure what else to put in it’s place though.  Shrugging, Castiel blew gently on the ink before sprinkling it with a small pinch of sand to help it dry.  Folding the letter over, he addressed in and slipped it in his shirt to give Anna.  

 

* * *

 

Dean’s next letter arrived much more quickly, a mere four days after Castiel had sent his own.  Unfortunately, Lucifer stayed in the kitchen most of the day demanding Castiel entertain him in some way.  Several stories later, Castiel was hoarse, his throat raw from speaking.  Lucifer had finally given up and left Castiel to his own devices, but that meant that by the time Anna gave Castiel the letter, it was well after dark.  

Castiel took it to his room and lit his one small candle to read by.

 

_Cas,_

_I’ve met Anna, and I would never dare to insult her kitchen, but to not have pie? That’s torture. Your new family is nothing short of sadistic!_

_I’m not really sure what you’d like to know about me and growing up.  I think people often feel like being a prince or royalty means this perfect life.  I’m not saying my life was bad.  Certainly I had it better than many others, but it was hard.  Dad was tough on us.  He still is.  Especially me.  I don’t think I’ve ever done anything that’s made him proud, even though I’ve always done what he’s asked.  He’s a good king though.  He always puts what’s best for the people first and I can only hope to be close to as good when it’s my turn to take his place.  I’ve never really let myself think about the possibility of being anything other than a prince.  It’s what I’ve been raised to be.  I don’t know anything else._

_Sammy though.  He’s the dreamer.  I think if he had a choice, he would certainly not be a prince.  He’d be a scholar.  Fortunately, I’m older so he won’t have to worry about the responsibility of taking the crown.  Right now Dad is still pushing for him to be a Hunter like the rest of the family, but if I can have my way, I’ll make sure Sammy gets to be what he wants.  Honestly, I’d feel better knowing he wasn’t out on hunts._

_Which I guess reveals a flaw in my nature.  Family is a weakness for me.  Especially Sammy.  You know our mother died giving birth to Sammy.  It’s always been my responsibility to look after him.  Dad was too busy managing the kingdom, that was his job.  But I think there are times when I’m over protective._

_I had a tutor once.  His name was Azazel. I hated him.  He was cruel and made me feel like an idiot on more than one occasion.  But I dealt with it.  Eventually, I no longer needed him.  I never said anything about how he treated me.  I didn’t want Dad to think I was weak.  But then he became Sammy’s tutor.  Sammy didn’t say anything either, but I know that kid too well.  Before Azazel, he was the most talkative, annoying little chatterbox around.  Couldn’t get the kid to shut up.  After a week though, he stopped talking, even to me.  Dad was too busy to notice, but I started to suspect Azazel was involved somehow.  I finally got Sammy to talk to me and it turns out I was right, he was pulling the same crap on Sammy that he had me.  But Sammy wasn’t like me.  I was always indifferent about book learning, but Sammy is smart.  And this was the first time someone had told him_ _he was stupid.  Not wrong.  That asshat told my little brother he was stupid every single day and Sammy started to believe it.  I could have just had Azazel fired.  Really, that’s all that needed to be done.  But I was furious.  He hurt my little brother and I couldn’t let that stand.  I had him banished.  Not sure where he went.  He might be here in Hellia for all I know._

_I know I probably went overboard, but I don’t let people hurt me and mine.  If that’s a flaw, I hope it’s one you can live with.  I suppose it’s better I tell you things like that now rather than later anyway._

_Hopefully still your friend,_

_Dean_

  
Castiel smiled.  How could Dean think Castiel could find devotion, love and loyalty a flaw?  He wanted to write back immediately, but the stub that remained of his candle chose that moment to flicker and die.  Rolling his eyes, Castiel felt his way in the dark towards the loose floorboard where he hid all of Dean’s letters before climbing into his bed.  He would respond in the morning, assuring Dean they were indeed still friends.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I let you off on a lighter note today. Enjoy it while you can! :)


	11. Chapter 11

The treaty negotiations between Hellia and Fell stretched from a few days, into a few weeks, and eventually into months.  Castiel and Dean continued to exchange letters.  Dean often expressed frustration in the process.  He was certain Crowley was being difficult on purpose, intentionally dragging the talks out.  Neither Dean nor Castiel seemed to be able to figure out _why_.  Castiel knew Dean wanted to come home.  He missed his brother and had, in more than one letter, admitted to missing Castiel too.  Castiel understood the feeling.  Through their letters, he had grown to know Dean very well.  Neither of them seemed to doubt the other’s continued desire for friendship, but Castiel now found himself longing for something deeper.  

Everything he learned about Dean only made him admire the prince that much more.  He was fiercely loyal, quick witted and funny - though he had a bad habit of using references Castiel couldn’t understand.  Despite what he’d said about not being interested in learning, Dean was also very smart, able to pick up on subtle clues around him that seemed lost on others.  From the details he was able to send Castiel about Hellia, Castiel doubted there was much that escaped Dean’s attention.  

Dean was officially eighteen now.  When he returned to Fell, he would be designated the head of the Hunters.  Castiel knew he would make a great leader.  For himself, it was now less than a year until he, too, could apply to join their ranks.  If, more than once, Castiel had hoped he and Dean would permanently be part of the same patrol, he never mentioned it out loud or in writing.  

Then Dean’s letters stopped.  There was no warning and no explanation.  At first, Castiel wasn’t concerned.  There had been times when talks had run heavy and Dean hadn’t be able to write for several days.  The longest he had gone without a letter in eleven months was a week and a half.  At two weeks, Castiel began to worry. At three weeks, Castiel had penned at least half a dozen letters asking Dean in some form to please let him know he was alright.  He didn’t send any of them.  Some part of him knew something was wrong and he didn’t want a missive to fall into the wrong hands.  

His thoughts were constantly wrapped up in reasons why Dean wasn’t writing any more.  There were rare moments when he thought perhaps it was him.  Had he done or said something to upset Dean?  He trusted Dean though.  If he had done something, Dean would have told him.  He wouldn’t have just stopped writing.  So that left Castiel with the gut deep knowledge that Dean was in trouble somehow.  

His distraction made him clumsy.  After he had dropped a glass he was supposed to be giving Michael at dinner one night, Anna made sure he stayed in the kitchen where she could clean up his messes.  Apparently, mending a broken bowl was not considered big magic.  She still made him mop the mess left behind though.

 

* * *

 

Two more days passed, still with no word from Dean.  That night, Anna came to Castiel’s room holding a lantern and something in her hands.  Though it had been quite some time, Castiel instantly recognized Benny’s cover.  

“Do you mind if we come in, Castiel?  Benny says he thinks he has something to show you.”

Castiel nodded warily and indicated Anna should sit on the bed.  “Do you know what it is?” Castiel asked.  He knew Benny could sense when something important arrived in his pages, but had no way of knowing what it was.  That didn’t mean Anna hadn’t looked though.  

She shook her head.  “No, if it was meant for you, I thought it best that you read it yourself.”

With that, she handed Benny over to Castiel.  Benny’s face was clear in the oval plate on his cover.  He looked at Castiel, concern clear in his eyes, but he managed a smile nonetheless.

“Hey kiddo, been a while.”

Castiel smiled back in acknowledgement before opening Benny and moving straight to his table of contents.  What he saw made his stomach tighten.  

There were several entries Castiel knew were meant for him.  The first was labeled “Order of Imprisonment,” followed by, “Order of Hunt,” and “Order of Execution.”

Castiel memorized the page numbers and flipped to the first

_I, Crowley, King of Hellia, do hereby declare an order of imprisonment for King John and Prince Dean of Fell.  Both should be taken into custody immediately.  If either resists, they are to be killed on sight._  

 

Castiel glanced at the date and noted the order was written two weeks ago.  How could something like this have not been made public throughout the kingdom?  Surely Crowley had submitted some form of ultimatum to Metatron as their acting regent.  Why was this being kept from the people?  Didn't they have a right to know that their king and crown prince had been taken prisoner?  

Castiel kept these thoughts at the forefront of his mind, forcing himself to ignore the titles of the next two passages.  Surely Dean had just been taken prisoner.  He was still alive and relatively safe.  He had to be.  

Castiel flipped to the next order.

_The Crown Prince of Fell, Dean Winchester, escaped during his attempted arrest.  His whereabouts are currently unknown.  I, Crowley, King of Hellia, decree, in accordance with my own order of imprisonment, that should Dean Winchester be found, he is to be killed on sight for resisting arrest in a time of war._

 

 

 

Castiel had to sit down.  His head was spinning and there was a tight pinched feeling in his chest that made it difficult to breathe.  Anna was looking at him expectantly, worry clear in her eyes.  But Castiel couldn’t seem to remember how to speak.  Instead he passed Benny to her so she could read the entries for herself.  

In all his life, he could never remember seeing Anna lose her composure.  She read the first entry and her lips became noticeably thinner as they tended to do when she was angry or worried.  As she read the second, her face began to pale and her eyes widened.  She handed Benny back to Castiel without a word and he flipped to the final order.  

 

_I, Crowley, King of Hellia, order the execution of King John of Fell on the count of espionage and for failing to adhere to the clauses outlined in the treaty between our two countries signed and ratified in the third month of this same year.  Prince Dean, currently a fugitive whose whereabouts are unknown, is also included in this order of execution.  This order is to be filled on the last day of this month._

 

Yesterday had marked the end of the month.  Castiel shot off the bed and frantically pulled out a bag and began stuffing his closest belongings inside, hardly taking the time to notice what it was he was packing.  Anna took only a moment to read the message herself before she was standing in front of Castiel, her hands on his shoulders.

“Castiel, what are you doing?”

“What do you _think_ , Anna?  I’m going to find him.  I need to find him.  I have to help Dean.  I can’t let Crowley find him first.  I can’t let him be executed.”  If the order held true, Fell had already lost its king, now they were threatened with losing their crown prince too.  Castiel didn’t want to voice the other fear eating at him.  Dean had been missing for almost two weeks.  For all Castiel knew, he could already be dead, attacked by hell hounds or worse, as he tried to evade capture by Crowley’s men.  That couldn’t be true.  Dean was alive.  He had to be.  Castiel couldn’t let himself dwell on the alternatives.

“Castiel, you don’t know where he is.  You don’t even know where to start looking.”  

Castiel’s shoulders slumped.  Anna was right, how would he know where to start?  The only thing he knew was that he would not wait here at home for it to happen.  

“I might be able to help with your dilemma,” Benny spoke up from the bed where Anna had left him.  

Both Anna and Castiel turned to him.  “I can’t promise anything, but I can try to look up where he might be right now.”

“Please, Benny.  Thank you, anything you can do, anything you might find will help.”

Benny smiled, “Don’t worry, kiddo.  I might not have been formally introduced to Dean, but I heard enough from him while you were toting me around to know he’s the good sort.  I’m happy to help.”  

With that, he closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment.  It took him longer than Castiel remembered from similar searches in the past, but perhaps that was just Castiel’s anxiety falsely extending the time.  

Eventually, Benny opened his eyes again.  “I think I might have found a couple of things for you.  Not sure how useful they’ll be though,” he qualified apologetically.  

Castiel nodded and sat down on the bed again before holding Benny steady in his lap.  He opened the cover again.  After a brief search, he found what appeared to be a detailed woodcut illustration of Dean leaning against a tree, clearly exhausted.  There seemed to be a cut of some kind near his forehead, with blood trickling down the side of his face.  But his eyes were open and alert.  Castiel breathed a small sigh of relief.  The next page was a map with a path already marked between Castiel and Dean.  Castiel estimated the trip would take him approximately two weeks on foot.  He doubted Dean had that much time before Crowley and his men found him.  Perhaps he could talk to Charlie?  That would take more time than he had though.

Anna seemed to read his mind.  “Take a horse from the stable.  It doesn’t matter which one.  You need to go, get to Dean.”  

Taking a horse from the stable was a risk.  No doubt Michael or Lilith would notice the horse missing before they noticed Castiel.  Castiel didn't have another option.  Anna was right, he needed to get to Dean.  

“Keep packing, I’ll be right back,” Anna said as she rushed out of the room.  Castiel glanced around to see what he might need most.  A change of clothes...a canteen for water...bandages, Dean had been hurt...his angel blade...he was sure there was something he was forgetting.  He didn’t want to take much, the more he packed the more he would be weighed down.  “You’ll make it, kiddo,” Benny spoke from the bed as he watched Castiel rush around the room. Castiel made eye contact to acknowledge that he heard Benny, but he didn’t stop.  

He was closing his satchel when Anna returned.  “Here,” she said, thrusting another small bag at him.  “Some food and an angel token.”  She reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of simple leather gloves.  

“Like your blade, these were angel made and contain angelic strength.  They will allow you to lift heavy objects or give you greater advantage in a hand to hand fight.  I’m not sure what you might need them for, but take them just in case.  They’re small and they travel well.  If nothing else, they’ll keep your hands warm at night.”

Castiel flashed Anna a small tight smile.  “Thank you.  I appreciate this, I really do.”  He slipped the strap of both his own satchel and the bag Anna had given him over his shoulder.  “I think I’m ready.”

“Don’t think you’re going and leaving me behind, kiddo,” Benny spoke up from the bed.  “After all, I’ve got your map.”  Castiel didn’t miss Anna’s smile of affection she shot towards Benny, though it looked strained and worried.

“You two take care of each other for me, understand?  I’ll never forgive you if one or both of you don’t come back to me.”  

Castiel stepped forward and hugged Anna tightly.  “We’ll come home.  And we’ll have Dean with us.  I promise.”  

Anna turned and picked up Benny, squeezing the cover gently in her hands before handing him off to Castiel.  Castiel tucked the book carefully under his arms before moving to head down the staircase.  Anna followed behind, holding the lantern high to light his way.  Castiel moved as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the other, less likable, residents of the house.  

When he reached the back door, Anna stopped and handed him the lantern to take to the stables.  “I’ll come retrieve it in the morning before anyone else wakes,” she said.  Castiel just nodded, his mind already three steps ahead.  

Once in the barn, he went straight to the stall that housed Michael’s steed, Archangel.  Castiel didn’t have a mount of his own.  His horse, Honeybee, whom he’d had since he was eight, was sold shortly after his mother’s death to help pay their growing debts.   Archangel would be the most easily missed, but he was also the fastest. Right now, Castiel was not concerned with what his stepbrother might choose to do to him.  

With practiced ease, Castiel saddled the snow white stallion and led him out into the yard.  He made sure the lantern was extinguished and left it on a hook just inside the barn door.  Now he would be relying on moonlight to find his way.  Hopefully, he would be able to travel some distance before dawn, when Michael would no doubt discover Archangel missing.  

He opened Benny once again and peered at the map before mounting.  Benny was a rather large book.  Castiel wanted to avoid having to open him too frequently while astride a horse.  To his surprise, Castiel noted Dean had moved.  Well, that feature would certainly be useful.  It would do Castiel little good to travel to a place Dean had been but was no longer.  All the same, it would make following the map slightly more difficult if it constantly changed.  

Making a note of the road he would need to take for the first portion of the trip, Castiel thanked Benny before stowing him in one of the saddle bags.  He slipped a foot into Archangel’s stirrup and swung his leg over the horse’s back.  With a gentle nudge, he urged the stallion forward.  Once they were out of sight of the house, Castiel gave another nudge of his heel, this one decidedly sharper, and Archangel broke into a full gallop.  

 

* * *

 

Castiel rode hard the first ten miles before easing up.  Archangel might be a magnificent horse, but even he would need a rest.  He slowed to a canter and then a trot, still not quite willing to reduce himself to a walk.  By the time the sun was breaking over the horizon, Castiel acknowledged that both he and horse needed a break.  They were at the edge of a copse of trees that would provide easy shelter should someone come along the road looking for them.  Additionally, Castiel could hear the soft gurgling sound of a creek or stream.  Archangel must have heard it too.  His ears pricked forward towards the sound and his nostrils flared appreciatively.  Castiel dismounted, wincing as his muscles complained at the abuse they had suffered the last few hours.  He followed Archangel as the horse followed his senses towards water.  Castiel pulled Benny out of the saddlebag before settling down on the ground against a tree with a groan.  

“You doing ok there, kiddo?” Benny asked, concern clear in his voice.  “You’ve been riding hard most of the night.  Don’t kill yourself.  Remember, you don’t come home, Anna will never forgive me.”

Castiel smiled wearily. “I think she was perhaps being facetious, but your concern is noted.”  

With that, he flipped open the cover and went straight for the map.  Dean had moved again, but not far and not significantly enough to alter Castiel’s path.  Castiel was grateful for that, but concerned at the same time.  If Dean was on the run and still healthy, wouldn’t he be moving faster?  Perhaps he had found a safe shelter and was trying to stay in the vicinity?  

The whys and what ifs circled in Castiel’s head until he closed his eyes and gave in to a fitful doze.  

He was startled awake sometime later by a nuzzling against his ear. Castiel scrambled to his knees, adrenaline pumping, hand on his sword, when he realized Archangel had apparently mistaken his hair for a patch of grass.  Relaxing his stance, he looked up at what he could see of the sun through the trees.  It appeared to be nearing midday, indicating Castiel had slept for almost four hours.  

Cursing at what felt, at that moment, to be a weakness, Castiel remounted and continued on towards Dean.  

Castiel reached the border between Fell and Hellia shortly after nightfall.  He opted not to take the road since it would be patrolled by guards from both sides questioning people as they passed through.  No doubt making mental notes of key features.  Even if Castiel thought of himself as unremarkable, Archangel at least was sure to draw stares.  For a moment, Castiel lamented not choosing one of the less flashy horses in the stable.  Lilith’s chocolate mare, Ruby, would have been just as fine a choice.

Instead, Castiel cut across country, watching for patrols and potential raiding parties as he went.  He soon found an optimal spot, crossing without a problem.  

Once he was sure  he was securely within the borders of Hellia, Castiel dismounted and opened Benny up to the map.

He was alarmed to note that Dean had not moved from his previous spot.  Perhaps he had been mistaken when he thought Dean had moved that morning.  He was sure he was not, though.  Which begged the question - why wasn’t Dean moving now?  Castiel pushed the possibilities from his mind.  If he kept pushing forward, he could be to Dean by midmorning.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My art, I hope you like!


	12. Chapter 12

Castiel checked the map twice more as he got closer to Dean, wanting to be sure that if Dean moved, he would be heading in the right direction.  To Castiel’s growing concern, Dean was in the same spot each time.  

_He’s probably just sleeping_ , Castiel tried to tell himself with little success.

Finally, Castiel led Archangel into a small clearing.  The horse was clearly exhausted, his head drooping.  Castiel slipped out of the saddle and patted him on the neck.  “Thank you, boy.  You did an excellent job.  Take a break now, okay?”  

Archangel nickered in response and slowly walked to a nearby bush, neatly picking the leaves off with evident relish.  

Castiel looked around the clearing, nerves ratcheting to high gear.  He didn’t see the Prince anywhere.  

“Dean?” Castiel called softly, aware that other things might be hiding in these woods.  “Dean, where are you?  Please answer me,” Castiel felt something clench in his stomach.  Why wasn’t Dean responding?  Castiel suddenly knew he had to see Dean again.  It was more than just because Dean was his friend.  With a dizzy realization, Castiel was faced with the knowledge that he loved Dean.

This new understanding added an edge of desperation to Castiel’s voice as he called Dean’s name again.  As he walked further into the clearing, Castiel felt his balance tip and nearly toppled forward, catching himself just in time. The ground in front of him sloped downward and opened into a pit that was nearly invisible until you were standing next to it - or in it.  

Trepidation clutching his chest, Castiel glanced over the edge.  He sucked in his breath and closed his eyes.  Dean was at the bottom of the pit, evidently unconscious.   _Just unconscious_ , Castiel told himself.  Dean could not be dead.  

Castiel looked again, this time objectively taking in the walls of the pit and their depth.  It appeared the pit had been dug just deep enough that a full grown man could reach his arm up and taste the edge, but be unable to grasp it to climb out.  The walls were expertly dug and perfectly smooth.  

Castiel walked back to Archangel who paid him no mind, but continued to devour the bush in front of him.  Castiel opened one of the saddlebags and dug towards the bottom, praying it held what he needed.  

To his satisfaction, his hand closed around a length of rope long enough to wrap around one of the trees and still hang at least halfway into the pit.  Castiel pulled on the angel gloves Anna had given him for good measure.  If nothing else, they would improve his grip and prevent rope burn on his hands.  Finally, he pulled out the bandages he brought with him and hoped he wouldn’t need anything more complex.  

Once the rope was tied, Castiel dropped the bandages into the pit ahead of him and slowly lowered himself down.  

As soon as his feet touched the ground, he moved towards Dean.  He pulled off the gloves and dropped them in the dirt in front of him before kneeling down, cradling Dean’s head as he felt for a pulse.  His own heartbeat stalled as he waited for the soft, telltale _thump_ against his fingers.  When he found it, he let out a long breath of air and closed his eyes against a sudden dampness, leaning his forehead against Dean’s for a brief moment.  

Composing himself, he pulled back and lightly tapped Dean’s face, noticing as he did, the cut that he had seen in the picture Benny showed him along the left temple.  It was caked in dirt, but it didn’t seem life threatening. “Dean.  Dean, wake up.  Come on, you need to open your eyes for me.”  

To his satisfaction, Dean stirred, two thin slits of green appearing as he struggled to open his eyes.  

“Wha...where, Cas?” he asked, not fully coherent.  

“I’m here, Dean.  It’s me.  You’re going to be all right.  I’ve found you.  I’m going to get you out of here and we’re going to go home.”  Castiel guided Dean into an upright position.  

“Here,” Castiel unclipped the canteen from his waist, glad he hadn't finished all the water inside.  “Have something to drink.”  

Dean took the canteen eagerly and drank deeply.  When he lowered the container, Castiel was grateful to see his eyes were clear.  “Thanks, Cas.”  He frowned a little, “How did you know where to find me?”

Castiel smiled, “Don’t worry about that. I found you, and I’m getting you out of here, I promise.  First, let me clean this gash on your head.”

Castiel poured the last of the water on the cut, wishing he had something stronger to clean the wound.  Carefully, he wound some of the bandage around Dean’s head until he was satisfied.  

“Can you stand up?” he asked Dean.

“I’m not sure,” Dean said uncertainly.  Castiel held out a hand as an offering to help.  As soon as Dean put weight on his right ankle, he cried out and collapsed back to the ground.  

“Dean!”

“I’m all right.  Must’ve hurt my ankle when I fell in. Pretty stupid of me.”

“Do you think you can stand with your weight on your left leg? I might be able to pull you out if you can stand upright.”

Dean shot him an uncomprehending look.  “How on earth are you going to _pull me out_ , Cas?  No offense, but I don’t think I can help and I’m not sure you’re strong enough to pull me out deadweight.”

Castiel grinned.  “Don’t worry, I have an idea.”

Castiel helped Dean up, this time making sure to keep his weight on his left side.  Dean leaned against the wall as Castiel grabbed the gloves he had discarded and pulled them back on.  As he grasped the rope to pull himself up, he felt the strength surge through his arms and he found he didn’t even need the bracing support of his feet against the walls.  

When he reached the top, he pulled the rope out and tied it around his waist to secure himself to the tree.  The last thing they needed was for him to overreach and fall and hurt himself.  When he was certain he wouldn’t be going anywhere, he lay flat on his stomach, leaning over as far as he dared into the pit.  

“Dean, grab my arm,” he commanded as he lowered his right arm down.

“Cas, I really don’t think…”

“Dean, Crowley’s men are looking for you.  I don’t know how close they might be.  You’ve been in this pit for the better part of a day.  We don’t have time to argue, grab my arm.”

Dean blinked, clearly unused to someone besides his father giving him orders.  Castiel understood the feeling.  He never gave an order if he could help it on principle alone, but this was an exception.  

Still uncertain, Dean raised his left arm and wrapped it around Castiel’s before grabbing on with his right arm as well.  The position allowed Castiel to get a firm grip on the upper part of Dean’s left arm, just below his shoulder.  Reaching back with his left hand, Castiel grabbed the rope to help lever both him and Dean up.  

“What the hell,” Dean exclaimed as Castiel pulled him out of the pit with only one hand.  Castiel could feel Dean was holding on as tightly as he could for dear life, but it wasn’t necessary.  Castiel’s grip was stronger.  Dean really didn’t need to hold on at all.  

When Castiel had pulled Dean up enough that his entire torso was out of the hole, Dean let go and hauled himself out the rest of the way.  

He looked at Castiel with awe clear in his eyes as he rubbed the spot on his arm where Castiel’s hand had been. “How’d you do that?” he asked.  

Castiel looked down, feeling sheepish in the face of the praise.  After all, it hadn’t really been _him_.  

“The gloves,” he explained.  “They’re angel made.  They provide whomever is wearing them at the time angelic strength.”

Dean winced a little as he continued to rub his arm.  “I’ll say,  I think you might have left a bruise, man.”

Castiel grimaced.  “I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t know another way to get you out.”

“Dude, no! I’m not complaining.  Thank you.  I was just surprised.”  

Now that they were out of the hole and Castiel could see Dean in the full light, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.  He looked over every inch, trying to see if there were any other injuries, to convince himself Dean was alive and well in front of him.  His friend looked exhausted, dirty, and possibly a little malnourished.  His eyes seemed to lack the easy sparkle they’d had the last time Castiel had seen him.  

For his part, Dean kept glancing at Castiel and looking down or away again quickly.  “Dean, are you positive you’re alright?” Castiel asked, unsure of why Dean wouldn’t meet his eyes.  

Dean drew in a shuddering breath.  “Yeah, I mean.  I’m fine.  I just...I don’t know, man…” Dean paused frowning as though to gather his thoughts.  “I mean, are you even really here?  Are you really you?  How do I know? How do I know you aren’t some trick?”

Dean finally met Castiel’s eyes and Castiel nearly broke at the desperation in them.  In that moment, he wanted to tell Dean everything, about Benny, about his curse, but he couldn’t, he’d been commanded not to.  

“The last time we saw each other, I was standing at my window hoping for a chance to see you, wishing like I’ve never wished before that I could just go down and tell you a proper goodbye.  Until your letter, I wasn’t even sure if you knew I was watching.  Or if you hated me for knowing I was home and not coming down.  But you wrote to me anyway.  And when you stopped writing, I knew something was wrong.  I knew I had to find you.  Dean.  I promise you I am real.”

Sensing Dean needed more than words, Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean’s hand, linking their fingers together.  Dean looked down at their entwined fingers and then back up again, desire warring with uncertainty.  Castiel tried to think about what he could _show_ Dean, to prove to him beyond a doubt.  

“Dean.  When I left for Purgatory, you came by my house and gave Anna something to give me.”  Castiel reached down and carefully drew his angel blade.  “You wanted to me to have this because even though you had only seen me fight once, you watched me closely enough to recognize I preferred fighting with a blade.  You were right.”

Dean reached out and touched the blade with his free hand.  The uncertainty cleared from his eyes, but there was a shadow of lingering pain that hurt Castiel deep inside.  What had Dean gone through during his year in Hellia?  

“Are you ready to go home Dean?” Castiel asked gently.  “I’m sure Sam is waiting for you there.”  

“Sam,” Dean said softly to himself.

“Sam needs you, Dean.” _I need you too_ , Castiel thought silently.  He didn’t speak the words aloud though, afraid Dean wouldn’t want to hear them.  He was sure Dean was his friend, but he had never indicated being interested in anything more.  Castiel might have discovered that he loved Dean, but that didn’t mean the feeling was reciprocated.  

Dean nodded and Castiel slipped himself under Dean’s right arm to avoid weight on Dean’s ankle and pulled him upright.  Carefully, Cas walked them both over to where Archangel had now completely devoured the bush and was working on drying up a small creek that barely deserved the name.  He would have liked to allow the horse a longer period of rest considering how hard he had pushed him getting here, but Dean had been stationary for too long and the strategically placed hole in the center of a clearing screamed trap.  Castiel felt a driving urge to move away from the area.  

“Sorry, boy.  I promise I’ll give you a real break soon,” Castiel murmured to the stallion, “but do you think you can get us a little further away from here before that?  We’ll find a spot with a nice deep creek for you, ok?”

Archangel bumped his nose against Castiel’s shoulder, which he chose to interpret as agreement.  He knew regardless of the horse, their next stopping point would need to have water.  With a quick glance at Dean, Castiel decided to risk pulling out Benny.  As long as Benny didn’t talk, he would appear like any other book.  

“Dean, I’m going to have you lean against this tree while I look at a map real quick, ok?” Dean nodded and hopped the short distance to the tree.  

His eyes widened when Castiel pulled out Benny.  “Dude, that’s not a map, that’s an atlas!”

Castiel grimaced, so much for being subtle.  It didn’t help matters that Benny chose that moment to appear on the book cover.  “Not just an atlas, I can be anything you need me to be.”

Dean yelped and lost his balance, falling flat on his rear.  

“Dean!” Castiel cried, slamming Benny shut somewhat harder than was strictly necessary before running over to help his friend off the ground.  “Are you all right?”

“I think I hit my head harder than I thought when I fell in that hole,” Dean said ruefully.  

“That could be one way of looking at things,” Benny said from the book.  Castiel glared down at the face on the cover.  

“Benny, Anna specifically told me to keep quiet about you, how can I do that if you go showing off the first time I pull you out with someone else around?”

If Castiel wasn’t so frustrated with Benny at the moment, the look on Dean’s face would have been comical.  

“Don’t worry, kiddo.  I’m actually a pretty good judge of character you know.  I don’t think the Prince here will blow the whistle on me.  Explain my situation to Dean, please.”

Castiel rolled his eyes.  At least Benny had released Cas from Anna’s command not to talk about him.  

“Dean, meet Benny.  No, you are not seeing things.  Benny was at one time a human cursed into the form of a book.  For lack of a better term, he belongs to Anna, our cook.  It’s thanks to Benny I was able to find you.”  

Castiel ended his explanation there.  He wasn’t quite sure how ready Dean was to hear about the order of execution against the King.  Especially since Castiel did not have proof that it had been carried out.  He suspected either way, Dean would want to storm Crowley’s castle and he was currently in no condition to do so.  Castiel’s priority was to get Dean home and work on the next problem from there.

The look of surprise had started to wear off Dean’s face and he leaned forward as though to inspect Benny more closely. Before Castiel realized his intention, Dean poked the plate where Benny’s face appeared.  

“Ow! Pardon, Highness.  I’m not sure what the rules are up in the palace, but where I was raised, it ain’t exactly polite to go poking people in the face.”  

“Sorry,” Dean said a small grin on his face.  It was the first Castiel had seen since Dean regained consciousness and Castiel felt something else break loose in his chest.  

Clearing his throat, Castiel raised an eyebrow.  “Are you both done now?  Can I try and find our way out of here?”

Both Benny and Dean nodded, so Castiel opened the book to the map.  Soon he had their course plotted.  Since Dean now knew about Benny, Castiel saw no reason to put him back in the saddle bag.  They situated Dean in front of Castiel so he would still be able to hold Benny while Castiel managed the reins, his arms on either side of Dean’s torso.  This also meant that by necessity, Castiel’s chin often rested on Dean’s shoulder as he peered around Dean to see where they were going.  

Neither Castiel nor Dean complained.  

 

* * *

 

With Dean’s added weight on Archangel, they weren’t able to move as quickly as Castiel had alone.  Despite that, they made relatively good time reaching the castle.  After two full days, they had made it as far as the border of Fell - at which point Castiel at least breathed a huge sigh of relief.  It was three days after that before they reached the palace.  

During the course of the journey, Dean explained what had happened to him in Hellia and how he’d managed to escape.  

“I don’t think Crowley ever meant to make a peace treaty.  He had something else planned, but I haven’t been able to figure out what.  The talks were going poorly.  My father was threatening to walk away.  He’d threatened before, but there was something different this time.  Usually Crowley backed down, and managed to sweet talk Dad into staying - offering something we really wanted,” Dean shook his head. “It felt like dealing with the devil.

“This time though, Crowley didn’t respond.  He just looked at Dad and said, ‘I’m sorry you feel that way John.’  I knew something wasn’t right.”  Castiel felt Dean’s shoulders tighten in front of him.  

“I went to bed that night expecting trouble.  I had my sword under my pillow and I was ready when they came for me.  Fortunately, they didn’t have any hell hounds with them.  Still managed to get knocked in the head pretty hard by one though,” Dean tilted his head to indicate the bandage.

“I heard the guards talking as I was hiding in the castle on my way out.  They had the hell hounds with them when they took Dad.  No way they would have caught him otherwise.  Probably didn’t expect me to be all that difficult.  Knew I wasn’t going to be able to break him out on my own, so I made a run for it.  I figured if I could make it back to Fell, I could work with Metatron and we could organize our forces.”  

Castiel was silent, his heart heavy.  Dean had been wandering through Hellia for nearly two weeks injured and trying to get home.  He had no way of knowing about the order of execution and Castiel didn’t know how to tell him.  

“I guess Crowley made some kind of demand then?” Dean asked.  “Is Metatron already organizing our troops?”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably.  “No, Dean.  No word about the King’s capture or your escape has been made public.  As far as I know, Crowley hasn’t made any demands, or that Metatron’s even aware of what’s happened.”

Dean twisted to face him.  “What? What do you mean? How is that possible? How did you even know to come look for me?” Dean asked, pain lacing his voice.

“Your letters stopped.  In over eleven months, I’ve never gone more than a week and a half without a letter.  Then there was nothing.  I knew something was wrong.  Then Benny,” Castiel gestured to the book in Dean’s hands, “felt something come through for me.  He can’t see what appears in his pages, he just knows who it’s supposed to be for.  I saw the order for your capture and the order to hunt you when you escaped,” Castiel paused.  Did he tell Dean about the order of execution?  It was the first time he considered lying to Dean without a command.  Dean seemed to sense the hesitation and took the decision out of Castiel’s hands.

“You saw something else too, didn’t you, Cas?  Tell me what it was.”

Castiel closed his eyes, “It was an order of execution.  For you and the King.  Dated the last day of the month.  I didn’t see the order until the first.  Dean...I’m sorry.”  

Dean had gone stock still in front of him.  “Dean, I don’t even know if the order was carried out.  I only knew I had to find you.  I had to make sure you were safe.  Benny gave me the map.  I followed it.  It only showed me how to find you.”  Castiel was desperate for Dean to understand.  There was nothing either of them could have done.  

“We don’t know for sure he’s dead yet right?” Dean asked, his voice cracking.  “The order was for both of us.  Maybe they decided not to kill him ‘till both of us were there. As a guarantee.”  

Castiel stayed quiet.  He wouldn’t give Dean false reassurances.  

“Damnit!” Dean burst out.  “I can’t figure out Crowley’s endgame.  Why go through all this?  Why lure us to Hellia and wait a whole friggin’ year before he makes a move?”

Dean drew in his breath like a drowning man and Cas felt something wet hit his arm.  Startled, he angled himself to see his friend better, but Dean had bowed his head, blocking himself from Castiel’s view.  

“Dean,” he said, his voice catching.  Castiel pulled Archangel to a halt.  He moved his arms so they were tightly wrapped around his friend, wishing Dean was facing him.  He buried his head in the crook between Dean’s neck and shoulder and held on tight.  “Dean,” he said again, more firmly this time. “We can’t change what’s been done.  But we will get through this.  Whatever needs to be done next, you have me.  I’m here for you, I promise you that.  I will do whatever you tell me to, whatever you need.” _I would do it even if I wasn’t cursed_ , Castiel added silently.  

Dean sobbed aloud for the first time and bent over in the saddle, hugging both Benny - who had chosen to remain silent during the exchange - and Castiel’s arms to him as though they were a lifeline.  Castiel lay his cheek on Dean’s back in an effort to let him know he was there.  

Eventually, Dean’s sobs quieted.  He righted himself in the saddle before twisting slightly to face Castiel.  

“Thank you,” he said quietly.  He looked down for a moment before meeting Castiel’s eyes again.  “Did you mean it when you said you would do anything I asked?”

Castiel responded immediately, “Of course, Dean.”

“Kiss me?” The question was clear.  Dean wasn’t really ordering Castiel to kiss him.  He had no way of knowing Castiel would have no choice.  It didn’t matter one way or another.  Castiel had wanted to kiss Dean since the moment he realized his friend was alive in the pit.

He leaned forward to meet Dean halfway, his eyes sliding closed as their mouths met in a gentle brush of lips.  The kiss was chaste and sweet and lined with the taste of salt from the remnants of tears on Dean’s face.  It left Castiel wanting more, wanting as much of Dean as he could have.  

“Thank you,” Dean whispered, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s for a moment before facing forward.  “We should be getting back.”  

Castiel nodded.  The castle was less than half a day away.  Whatever happened next, he vowed he would be there to support Dean.  


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more week from today and we'll be at the end!!

When they arrived at the castle, there was a flurry of activity.  Charlie came running out to greet them almost immediately, followed closely by Prince Sam.  Castiel watched them as they dashed across the bailey.  He had never met the younger prince in person and despite being only fourteen years old, Castiel could tell Sam would grow to be a tall man.  Already he was almost as tall as his brother, four years his senior.  

Castiel took them as close to the castle entrance as possible, deciding that the less Dean walked on his ankle the better.  He had wrapped it as well as he could the first night they stopped to rest and Dean insisted it was feeling better - at least he was walking without a visible limp now - but Castiel saw no need to push it too quickly.  

As soon as Dean dismounted and transferred Benny to Castiel, he found himself with an armful of brother.  Castiel found it heartwarming to watch Dean hug his brother back, comforting and allowing himself to be comforted.  “Hey, Sammy.  I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Dean. Is the treaty finalized?  Is that why you’re home? Where’s Dad?”  Sam glanced over at Castiel, clearly wanting to ask who he was too, but he refrained, waiting for Dean to introduce them.  

Castiel and Dean glanced at each other.  It was clear that no one, not even Sam, seemed to know that something had gone terribly wrong with the negotiations in Hellia and that King John might be dead.  

Charlie saw the look that passed between the two friends as well as the state of their clothing, and spoke up, “Dean, it’s about time you got home!” she exclaimed, saving him from having to answer Sam’s questions. “I’m sure Metatron will want to speak with you and get an update on the situation.”

Her eyes were more shrewd than Sam’s as she searched Dean’s expression, lingering on the cute and yellowing bruising still visible at Dean’s temple.  Any traces of Dean’s breakdown had long since vanished to be replaced by an unreadable mask.  Anyone who knew Dean well would instantly recognize the difference.  The Dean who had left for Hellia laughed easily and was still young in so many ways.  This Dean had grown up.  While Castiel admired and loved them both, he hoped he would one day see some of that younger Dean break through again. Through their letters over the last several months and their talks on the way back to the palace, Castiel knew a great deal of what Dean had experienced on his mission.   

“I’ll tell you everything later, Sammy.  Charlie’s right. I need to see Metatron.” Dean unwound himself from Sam’s embrace.  “I promise, Sammy, we’ll talk again as soon as I’ve talked to Metatron.  It won’t take long, ok?”

Reluctantly, Sam nodded his head.  “I’m glad you’re back, Dean.  Next time, you leave on a mission, you to need to learn how to write a letter.”

Castiel blinked but didn’t say anything.  Had Dean only written to him?

Dean glanced at him quickly and Castiel was sure he saw gratitude in his eyes for not mentioning anything to Sam about their correspondence.  

Dean moved forward, but Castiel held back, unsure if he was welcome to follow Dean into a meeting with Metatron.  

Dean turned almost immediately.  “What’s wrong, Cas?  C’mon, I need you in there with me.”

Castiel felt Sam’s eyes hone in on him.  “You’re Cas?” Sam asked, his voice holding a mixture of surprise, awe, and amusement.  

Before Castiel could respond, Dean looked at his brother, “Shut up, Sammy.”

“Jerk,” the younger prince muttered under his breath.

“Bitch,” Dean said smiling slightly.  He turned again and this time, Castiel followed, tucking Benny under one arm and praying he stayed quiet.  

Castiel had never been in the castle before, so he stuck close to Dean, afraid if he let him get too far ahead, Castiel would lose his way.  

They came to a halt in front of a set of large oak doors.  Dean pushed them open without knocking.  Inside was a man who didn’t fit the image Castiel had for him.  He was shorter than Castiel had thought he would be, with an unassuming face, and a soft physique made up of more rounded edges than sharp planes.  

The man looked up from behind the large maplewood desk situated in the center of the room, clearly not expecting anyone to enter unannounced.  Metatron’s eyes honed in on Castiel first, a glint of surprise as he seemed to size him up before his gaze transferred to Dean.  Something flickered across Metatron’s face when he recognized the Crown Prince, but Castiel couldn’t identify the emotion before it was gone and replaced with an expression of shocked relief.

“Dean!” he cried, stepping forward and opening his arms.  “Thank God.  I feared the worst.  Is your father with you?”

Dean seemed surprised by the show of affection, but gave Metatron a brief hug nonetheless before stepping back, frowning slightly.  “What do you know?”

Metatron’s face fell.  “I just received word by an urgent message from Hellia less than two hours ago.  It simply said that the King and the Crown Prince had been executed for acts of espionage and for refusing to adhere to a signed treaty.  You can imagine my surprise and relief to see you here.  Does this mean King John is alive as well?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes as he sized up Metatron.  There was something about him that seemed wrong, but Castiel couldn’t pinpoint what it was.  As Metatron relayed his message, Castiel looked to Dean.  The stone mask was back in place.  Whatever emotions Dean had about hearing about the orders for his father’s death for the second time that day, he hid them well.  

“I can’t say.  The last I knew for certain, King John and I were attacked in our beds.  The King was captured.  I was fortunate enough to escape.  I would still be wandering through Hellia if it hadn’t been for Cas.”  Dean afforded Castiel a wide, if brief, smile before turning back to Metatron.  

“Did Crowley make any demands before ordering our execution?” he asked.

Metatron shook his head.  “No, I had no idea anything was wrong until I received this notice.  Your father had been lax in sending reports this month,” Castiel saw Dean’s jaw tighten slightly at the slur against the King, but he said nothing as Metatron continued.  “It wasn’t the first time and there was nothing for me to suspect you were in danger in any way.”  

Metatron moved to stand behind the desk, placing the tips of his fingers on the surface and leaning forward, the picture of authority.  “It is a stroke of luck that you managed to escape Dean.  I was at a loss at what to tell the country - to tell Sam.  The death of the King and the Crown Prince in one stroke would be devastating to say the least.  We will have to arrange for your coronation immediately of course…”

“Wait,” Dean said, holding up his hand to stop Metatron’s words.  “Don’t you think you’re being somewhat premature?  Shouldn’t we confirm first that King John is in fact dead?  After all, until I walked through those doors, you assumed I had been executed as well.”  

Castiel continued to watch Metatron while Dean spoke.  The question certainly made the smaller man flustered, but Castiel couldn’t determine if it was more than just the overwhelming situation.  Castiel only knew he didn’t trust the man.  

“Of course, you’re right.  We need proof the King is in fact dead,” Dean winced and Castiel shifted closer to his side, laying his hand against the small of Dean’s back.  Dean leaned into the touch seeking the comfort it offered.  Metatron continued, “but in the meantime, we need to do something to ensure the peoples’ moral stays high and to show King Crowley that we will not bend under difficult circumstances.

“Your eighteenth birthday passed while you were in Hellia.  By rights you should now be named the head of the Hunters.  I believe we should withhold the news of the King’s potential death until we have proof.  Tonight, we shall hold a ball, at which point you will officially take on the role you were born to fulfill.”  

Castiel frowned.  A ball at such a time hardly seemed appropriate.  He held his tongue though, letting Dean take the lead.  

To his surprise, Dean nodded.  “As you see fit.  But as soon as I _am_ made head of the Hunters, I will be leading our forces into Hellia to find the King or take down Crowley. The order of execution claims we violated terms of a treaty when no treaty had been signed.  Even taking us prisoner was an act of war.  I intend to find my father, dead or alive, and make sure Crowley can’t touch us again.”  There was steel in Dean’s voice, a determination Castiel hadn’t seen in him before and he felt his chest swell in pride.  Dean would make a good king, whether he became king tomorrow or years from now.  

“O-of course,” Metatron said, smiling weakly, clearly intimidated by Dean’s force.  Castiel was sure Metatron wasn’t pleased by Dean’s words.  He made a note to talk to Dean about his reservations when they had a moment alone.  

“Is that all?” Metatron asked.  “It seems I now have a ball to prepare for and I should begin work on that immediately.”

Dean frowned, clearly sharing Castiel’s opinion that ball preparations should feature rather low on Metatron’s list of priorities.  “No, there is one other thing I’d like to discuss with you.”  Dean hesitated before turning to Castiel, his eyes soft.  

“I need to talk to Metatron privately for a moment. Do you mind, Cas? We’ll have a servant come take you to your rooms.” He smiled when Castiel started to protest.  “Cas, you’re staying here.  It’s the least I can do to thank you for everything you’ve done. Besides,” pain flashed across Dean’s face, “it will be good to have someone to talk to.”  

Castiel nodded.  “All right, Dean.  I’ll be here if you need me.”

Dean smiled.  As Castiel walked back towards the doors, Metatron pulled a cord hanging next to the desk.  “A servant will be here soon, just wait outside the doors please.” Castiel inclined his head slightly to show he heard and understood, but refused to acknowledge Metatron in any other way as he left.  

As ordered, Castiel stood just outside the doors.  No more than two minutes had passed when a young boy, about Prince Sam’s age, though significantly shorter and wearing the red and white striped livery of the palace staff, came hurrying up to him.  The servant’s face split into a wide smile of delight.  “Castiel!” he cried, happiness evident in his voice.  

Castiel looked more closely at the pageboy.  “Samandriel?” he asked, remembering the young fellow he had once stood up for in a back alley, but not expecting to see him in the palace.  

Samandriel continued to smile.  “I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to see you again,” the boy said, happiness still evident on his face. “What are you doing here in the palace?”

Castiel returned the smile, “I’m a guest of Prince Dean’s, and I could ask you the same question.”

“Prince Dean found me after you saved me.  He offered me a job here.” The mention of his duties seemed to bring Samandriel back to himself.  “Oh! If you’re a guest, I suppose I should be taking you to your rooms.”  He turned bright red, clearly embarrassed at forgetting himself for a moment.

Castiel smiled at him reassuringly.  “That’s fine, Samandriel, it’s good to see you again.”

Samandriel continued to chatter as he led Castiel down the various corridors of the castle.  Castiel found it difficult to listen and try and make note of his surroundings at the same time, so he missed much of what Samandriel had to say.  Most of it seemed to be praise for either himself or Dean and Castiel couldn’t help feeling a swell of affection for the the boy.  

Once they reached the room, Samandriel seemed to realize for the first time that Castiel didn’t have any luggage with him beyond the large book in his arms.  “All my belongings are in my saddlebags.  I believe my horse, a white stallion, was taken to the stables.”  Castiel said, anticipating Samandriel’s question.  

Samandriel nodded, “I’ll get those and bring them to you right away.”  He scampered off before Castiel could offer his thanks.  

Castiel pushed the door to his room open and stepped inside.  

“I think you’ve got an admirer, kiddo.” Castiel jumped at the sound of Benny’s voice.  He’d been so quiet, Castiel had almost forgotten Benny was there.  

“Benny!” Castiel chastised, “A warning, perhaps, would nice.”

“Sorry, kiddo.  Didn’t mean to startle you.  You think you could put me down for a bit though?  Getting jostled around like this doesn’t do pleasant things to my spine. Especially when you forget I’m not just a book.”

Castiel promptly put Benny on a small sitting table near the bed, face up.  

“So did you hear any of the conversation with Metatron?” Castiel asked.

“I did.”

“What was your opinion of him?” Castiel asked, not wanting to lead Benny in a particular direction, but also wondering if he was the only one who found Metatron less than trustworthy.  

“I don’t know, kiddo.  It’s hard to say much when I couldn’t see him.  But from what I heard from his voice, he didn’t exactly feel like the honest type,” Benny said, confirming Castiel’s suspicions.  

Castiel frowned.  “I agree, but I’m not sure what to do about it.  Dean trusts him.  He holds a high position in the court.  It’s not as though I have any proof.”

A knock at the door made Castiel look up sharply.  He waved his hand at Benny to indicate he should vanish from the cover before going to answer the summon.  It was probably just Samandriel returning with Castiel’s belongings.  

When he opened the door however, he was stunned to see Metatron on the other side.  

“May I come in?” Metatron asked, not bothering to wait for an answer before pushing past Castiel.  “I really don’t need to ask, I know.  I could just tell you to let me in.  It’s not as though you have much of a choice really.”

Castiel stilled.  It was very likely Metatron was simply referring to the amount of power he wielded inside the palace.  Had Metatron ordered him to let him in, cursed or not, custom would dictate Castiel grant him entrance despite the rudeness of the demand.

Without warning Metatron walked over to the table and pushed Benny to the floor.  Just as the book hit, Castiel saw Benny flash briefly on the cover, shooting a glare in Metatron’s direction.  Fortunately, Metatron had his eyes trained solely on Castiel.  

“Pick it up.”  

Panic welled in Castiel’s chest.  He knew.  How did he know?  Had Michael somehow informed him?  Castiel fought the order, not wanting to confirm the existence of the curse.  He could feel the pain blooming in his shoulders.  Soon, it would be unbearable.  Surely if there was a time to be able to break the curse, now was it?

“It’s no use trying to hide, Castiel.  I know all about your angelic blessing.  I know who gave it to you, bless Naomi’s misguided heart, and I know what it requires of you.”

Castiel couldn’t take it anymore.  If looks could kill, Metatron would be a smoldering pile of ash as Castiel bent down and picked up Benny before carefully placing him back on the table.  

“How?” Castiel growled out.  

“Well, you see Castiel, I have a little secret myself.  One which I am forbidding you now to tell anyone else. Is that command clear?”

Castiel nodded.

“You see, I’m an angel too.  Oh I do a much better job of blending in than my dear sister, but there you have it.  As an angel, one of our many talents is that we can read angelic magic.  We recognize our own power and Grace in the people and objects they touch.  The second you walked into that study, I knew you had been blessed by Naomi.  

“I’ve made it a practice to monitor the spells performed by my brothers and sisters since our expulsion, you know.  It’s good to know who’s doing what.  Naomi, she certainly likes to leave her mark.  I knew when Dean said your name, it sounded familiar.  When I saw you, I made the connection.  You’re one of her obedient children.  That one has always been a favorite of hers.”  

Metatron smiled, the expression oily on his face.  “Of course I couldn’t say anything in front of the dear Prince now could I?  It was clear he didn’t know anything about it.  I’m sure it’s something you keep rather close.  I know I would.”

“What do you want, Metatron?” Castiel ground out, his voice shaking with pent up fury.

“I want what I wanted when I signed a deal with Crowley.  I want both the King and the Prince dead.  I want the throne you foolish boy.”

Castiel felt the blood drain from his face.   _Dean_.  “What do you mean, you signed a deal?” he whispered.

“While John and Dean were off playing negotiators, I was negotiating my own treaty behind their backs.  One that would ensure both of them would be executed on Crowley’s command.  Of course I promised him a few things in return, but that’s really neither here nor there, now is it?”

“But, why?”

“Do you have any idea who I used to _be_?” Metatron hissed. “I was the mouth of _God_ before the angels were forced out.  I am one of the few who has ever spoken to, _seen_ our Father.  And now? Now I’m nothing.  Forced to hide my true powers and cower before _humans_.” Disgust dripped through his every word.  “I deserve more than this.  Heaven is shut to us, so instead, I will rule here.”

“Dean will never let that happen,” Castiel said, sure in his faith in Dean.  

“Dean won’t have a chance to stop me,” Metatron replied.  

“He escaped from Crowley, he’ll find a way to escape you.” Castiel knew goading Metatron probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do, but his anger and fear for Dean were all encompassing and he couldn’t help himself.

“Escape me?” Metatron laughed.  “Oh no, dear boy.  He won’t have to escape me.  I won’t be the one killing him.  I don’t like getting my hands dirty, you see.”  

Castiel felt a deep, sinking sensation in his chest.   _No_ , he thought, _please, no_.

“Tonight at the ball, Dean will pull you aside.  He will take you to the Hall of Mirrors where he will ask you a question.  When he asks the question - and trust me, Castiel, you will know the question - you will take this angel blade,” Metatron fingered the handle of the weapon where it hung from Castiel’s hip.  Castiel fought with himself to stay still, knowing if he moved, he would just make the situation worse.  

“You will take this blade and stab Dean through the heart.”

The command was like a physical punch to the gut.  Castiel fell to his knees and looking up at Metatron pleadingly.  “No, please, don’t make me do this.  Please. I can’t.”

Metatron smiled placatingly, “You don’t have a choice.  You know, I rather like this obedience spell of Naomi’s.  Perhaps when I become king, I will make it a mandatory blessing for the whole kingdom.”  

Metatron’s face hardened as he looked at Castiel.  Remember, you must keep this conversation a secret. No one outside this room can know what we’ve discussed.”  With that, Metatron turned and swept out of the room.  

Castiel wasn’t sure how long he stayed on his knees gasping for air.  When he came back to himself, he noticed his face was wet with tears and he heard Benny calling his name, concerned.

“Benny, I have to go.  I have to get as far away from here as possible.  I have to find Naomi.  I can’t let this happen.  I can’t do that to Dean.”

“Kid, kiddo, breathe,” Benny urged.  Castiel looked down at the face on the cover.  Benny’s eyes were sympathetic and the worry in them was clear.  

“Do you think leaving will work?” he asked.  

“It has to, Benny.  I can’t kill Dean.  Even if it kills me, I won’t do it.”

“Maybe I can tell Dean for you?  He already knows about me.”

Just the suggestion sent a flash of pain through Castiel’s shoulders. He gasped, “No, that won’t work.  Metatron said no one outside the room could know.  Even if you tell, the curse will still hit me.”

“Alright then.  Tell me what I can do to help.”

Castiel nodded.  “I need to find Naomi.  Do you have any idea how I can do that - quickly?”

“Close my cover, I’ll see what I can come up with.” Benny said reassuringly.

Castiel did as instructed.  Fortunately, it wasn’t long before Benny nodded and Castiel opened him to the new entry.  It was a summoning spell.  The words were in a language Castiel didn’t know, but he was able to sound them out.  He winced when he realized the symbol would need to be written in blood.  Otherwise, the spell didn’t look too complicated.  

There was another knock at the door and Castiel froze.  The knock sounded again and Samandriel’s voice filtered through the heavy wood. “Castiel?”

Castiel realized he had stopped breathing.  He took in a large lungful of air as he moved to the door to let Samandriel in.  

As soon as Castiel saw his bags, he had an idea.  

“Thank you, Samandriel, can you wait just a moment? I will need you to deliver something to Prince Dean for me, then I need you to take me to Charlie, can you do that?”

Samandriel nodded, confused.  Castiel gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile before pulling a sheet of paper and a quill out of his bags.  Then he sat down to write the hardest letter to Dean he’d ever had to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sorry. :) See you Sunday!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Throws chapter at you and runs away.

“Castiel, I still don’t understand what’s going on!” Charlie huffed in exasperation.  

“I told you, Charlie, I _can’t_ tell you.  Just please, trust me.  This is important.”  

Castiel and Charlie were well on their way out of the city.  Aside from Dean, Charlie was the only person in the castle he felt comfortable with, and she was completely devoted to Dean.  Even if he couldn’t tell her what they were doing, he knew she would help.   

“Do you know anyplace remote, where you can chain me up and no one is likely to come across me?”

_“What?_ Castiel, why would I chain you up? Does Dean know about any of this?”

“No, and he can’t. Charlie, you have to swear to me you won’t tell him.  Dean can’t come near me right now.  Please don’t ask me anymore, I can’t tell you and I don’t want to lie,” Castiel begged her desperately.  

Charlie looked at him sharply. “Fine. But when this is over, I am so sitting you down and getting you to tell me everything.”

“Deal,” Castiel agreed, grateful Charlie was willing to follow him blindly.  They were losing time in the day and the further he got from Dean and the castle, the more pronounced the twinges in his back became.  

“In that case, there’s an old abandoned farmhouse about twenty minutes from here.  The barn is still in fairly good shape and there are some pretty sturdy beams I should be able to chain you to.”

“Good.  We need to hurry.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before they made it to the farm.  There was an old weathered sign with _Pontiac_ written on it, the letters faded and weary.  Once inside the barn Charlie made quick work of tying and chaining Castiel to a central supporting post.  Benny was open on the ground next to him.  “Now, I need you to paint this symbol on that door there,” Castiel said, nodding his head to indicate the stall door closest to him.  

“With what, Castiel? It’s not as though I brought my art supplies with me.  I’m a Hunter, remember?”

Castiel winced and shot her an apologetic look before telling her, “With my blood.  I need to you cut my arm.  Use the blood from the cut to paint the symbol.  When you’re done, leave the book near me please, I’ll need to be able to read it after you’re gone.”  

“Woah, ew.  Seriously, dude?”

Castiel shot her a look and Charlie quailed a little under it.  “All right, fine then.  One bloody masterpiece, coming up.”

When Charlie raised the blade over his arm, Castiel shut his eyes and thought of Dean.  He remembered Dean’s laugh, which he hadn’t heard in so long, and the green of his eyes.  He thought about the freckles that sprinkled over his face like cinnamon.  And he thought about the letter he had left him.  It nearly killed Castiel to know how much that letter would hurt Dean.  But at least Dean would be alive and safe from Castiel and his curse.  For Castiel, that was the most important thing.  

“Ok, I’m done.  Is there anything else I need to do?” Charlie asked, standing and brushing hay off her knees.  

“Not here, thank you Charlie.  Just please, get back to the castle as fast as you can and keep an eye on Metatron.”

“Metatron? Why?”

Castiel rolled his eyes skyward and thumped his head against the post behind him. “I’ve _told_ you, Charlie…”

“I know, I know, you can’t tell me.”  

“Right, just please, keep Dean safe.”  Castiel sucked in a breath at the sharp pain that stabbed through his shoulder blades.  He was talking too much.

Charlie honed in on the words.  “Dean is in trouble? From Metatron?”

Castiel bent his head, trying to work through the pain.  “Cas, you ok?” Charlie asked, worry and fear in every word.

“Charlie.  Please, go.  Dean.” Castiel ground out.  

Thank the fates, Charlie listened to him and backed out of the barn.  “I’m coming back for you in the morning,” she promised.  Castiel was concentrating too hard to acknowledge her.  

The pain eased somewhat after Charlie left, but Castiel knew it would only get worse again the longer he stayed away from Dean and the ball.  He looked down at the incantation in Benny’s pages and began to chant.  

Thunder boomed overhead and lightning crackled, filtering in through the seams in the barn walls where it was no longer quite weathertight.  Castiel continued chanting

The doors smashed open, and wind blew hay and dust into Castiel’s face, blinding his view.  When the storm died down, Naomi stood in front of him, smiling at him beatifically.  “Hello, Castiel.”

“You know who I am?” Castiel asked, blinking dust from his eyes.

Naomi laughed.  “Of course I do.  I remember every soul I have blessed.  You are a child of obedience. I am sorry about all the dust. Barns are rather difficult places to make a dramatic entrance.”

“Please,” Castiel said, desperate to get his request out so he could get back to Dean, to make sure Dean was safe. “Please, take the blessing back.”

Naomi’s smile vanished and her eyes turned hard. “I never take a gift back.  Trying to return it shows a shocking level of ingratitude.  I had higher hopes for you, Castiel.”

“You don’t understand.  Someone found out about the curse.  They’re trying to make me do something horrible.  This isn’t about me.  The kingdom itself is being threatened - _aauugghhh!_ ” Castiel broke off with a scream of agony as the curse hit him two-fold.  

Naomi ignored his pain and continued to glare down at him.  “Politics are not my department,” she said, clearly irate that her gift was underappreciated. “If you have a problem with the kingdom, take it to the Prince.  There’s a ball tonight in his honor.  Go talk to him there.  I’m sure he’ll be more willing to listen than I am.”

“No,” Castiel sobbed, “You don’t understand, I can’t…”

“Obviously not when you’re chained up like that. And to show you how benevolent and giving I truly am, I will set you free.”  

With a snap of her fingers, the chains surrounding Castiel, as well as Naomi herself, vanished.  He collapsed to the floor in a heap, his hands scrabbling at the dirt beneath him as he sought purchase against the pain in his back and the urge to _move_ in the direction of the palace.

Against his will, he stood up, grabbing Benny as he went.  Fighting himself with every step, he began the walk back to the palace.  At the very least he was able to resist the urge to climb on Archangel.  Perhaps by the time he actually made it back to the ball, the command would have nullified itself.  

The hope was pointless.  By the time Castiel hit the city walls, he was running, his body no longer obeying his commands as it sought relief from the curse.  The second his foot hit the first step of the castle entrance, the pain lessened.  Not enough to stop himself, but to at least slow himself to a walking pace.

He knew he was a mess.  His clothes were far too plain for a ball - he was still wearing what he’d been wearing when he and Dean arrived that morning.  In addition to being travel worn, they were covered in the dirt and straw of the barn.  He knew his hair was in a disarray and he could only hope that the guards would stop him before he actually made it to the ballroom itself.  

No such luck.  Several of the guards shot him suspicious looks, but none attempted to waylay him.  He still couldn’t prevent his feet from pulling him forward.  

He reached the entrance to the ballroom.  Around him, Lords and Ladies swirled past in their finest, smiles on their faces, completely unaware of the plight the kingdom was in. And there was nothing Castiel could do to stop it.  Just as he couldn’t stop his eyes from seeking out the one person he should be avoiding most of all.  

Dean was not on the dais where Metatron sat, meaning he must be somewhere amongst the dancers.  Castiel felt a sharp twinge of envy at the thought of anyone else dancing with Dean.  It was unfair.  He had come to realize that if he couldn’t break this curse, he could never be with Dean.  Even if he managed to find a way to keep Dean safe through this night, there was no guarantee he would ever be safe from Castiel.  Already, too many people with designs on the throne knew his secret.  Fortunately, Castiel had not yet spotted Michael in the crowd of dancers.  

His eyes passed over the dais again and he stopped.  Metatron was looking directly at him with a knowing gleam in his eye.  Castiel glared back in return.  

“Cas?”

The couple in front of him stopped dancing, much to the displeasure of the young woman in Dean’s arms who was visibly pouting.  Upon a closer look, Castiel recognized Lady Rebeckah.  His notice was brief though, Cas’s attention drawn instead to her partner.  

“Dean,” Castiel breathed the name.  All pain in his shoulders stopped as he took in the image of the man he loved above all others.  His heart flew as it broke into a thousand pieces.  It wasn’t fair.  How could loving someone be dangerous?  

Dean stepped forward, releasing his dance partner who stalked off with a huff.  “Cas, you came.  What are you doing here?” The pain in Dean’s eyes was evident and Castiel kicked himself for helping to put it there.  Pain was the last thing he ever wanted to cause Dean.  

“Dean, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t - I shouldn’t be here…”

“Why?” Dean bit out.  “You said you would stand behind me.  The next thing I know, you’re writing me a letter telling me you can’t ever see me again.  What happened?  Was it something I did? Please, help me understand.”

“Dean, I swear it was nothing you did.  I want to be with you, just like I promised.  But I’m not good for you.  I’m wrong.  This is wrong.” Castiel knew he was babbling, but he hadn’t been given clear enough permission to explain about Metatron.  He couldn’t tell Dean everything, no matter how much he wished it.  

Dean seemed to sense Castiel’s turmoil.  He reached out and pulled Castiel into a tight embrace.  Unbidden, Castiel wrapped the arm not clutching Benny around Dean’s waist, and holding tightly onto his back.  He was aware again of how filthy he was, but couldn’t quite bring himself to care.  He pressed his face into the crook of Dean’s neck and heaved a dry sob.  

This wasn’t right.  Dean shouldn’t be comforting him right now.  It should be the other way around.  Dean had too much on his shoulders to bear Castiel’s curse too.  

“Cas, tell me how you really feel about me,” Dean whispered, ignoring the room full of spectators.   

“I love you.” The admission was soft and broken.

Dean pulled back to look Castiel in the eyes, to gauge the honesty of the words.  Castiel wanted to tell him he couldn’t lie.  

He didn’t need to.  Whatever Dean saw in Castiel’s face convinced him of the truth.  

Dean dropped his hand to Castiel’s and twined their fingers together.  “Come with me,” he urged.  Castiel was bound to follow, dread filling the pit of his stomach as he cast a glance at Metatron and saw the smile of a cat who knew the canary was well and truly caught.  

Castiel followed Dean down several different winding corridors.  If he had to find his way back on his own, Castiel knew he would never manage it.  

Before long, Dean stopped in front of a small, unobtrusive door.  “Leave Benny here; he’ll be safe, I promise.”  

Dean took a deep shuddering breath before pulling the door open and leading Castiel inside.  

As soon as he stepped through the doors, Castiel saw hundreds of visions of himself bouncing back, reflecting his fear, guilt and shame.  

They were in the Hall of Mirrors.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR I didn't intentionally time this as a Sunday post!!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This is the last full chapter!!! Thank you EVERYONE who has read this, commented on this, or told their friends about this story. Your support has been amazing! I hope you've enjoyed this ride as much as I have. I'll see you on Friday for the epilogue!!!

Castiel closed his eyes against the hundreds of faces staring back at him.  It was a futile effort. “No, no, no, no,” he chanted to himself, trying to block out what was happening.  It didn’t do any good.  His mind’s eye supplied the mirrors.  All he saw were hundreds of versions of Dean, lying dead in front of him.  His worst nightmare. He felt the growing pressure to obey building inside of him and he tried uselessly to fight it back.  

“Cas,” Dean started.  

“No, Dean, please don’t say anything,” Castiel begged. If he could keep Dean from asking him a question, Castiel wouldn’t have to kill him.  He wouldn’t have to kill himself; to carve out his own heart.  Because he knew that’s what killing Dean meant.  Dean was his heart.  Dean was his everything.  

“Cas, please, look at me.”

Castiel opened his eyes.  He could feel tears pouring down his face and was helpless to stop them.  Powerless to halt whatever Dean had to say.

“Whatever this is, Cas, we can fix this, I promise.” Dean said, his own voice catching.  “Let me help you fix this.”

Castiel didn’t respond and Dean looked around at their many reflections before continuing, clearly trying to find some way to break through to Cas, even if it was just by the sound of his words.  

“You know, I used to come into this room a lot growing up.  My father brought me here the first time.  He was always a bit harder on me than Sammy.  He expected more from me I guess. Knew I was the one that would one day…,” Dean’s voice cracked and Castiel wanted to do nothing more than comfort him, but he couldn’t.  He couldn’t let himself get too close.

Dean cleared his throat and started again.  “He knew that one day I would have to take his place.  So he brought me here. ‘Look at yourself,’ he told me. ‘One day you will be king.  Only you can judge what kind of king you will be.  If you can’t find the leader inside you, how can the people?”

Dean laughed a small laugh.  “God I hated being in this room with him.  Having one set of his eyes on me was hard enough.  Made me feel like I never quite measured up.  Having _hundreds_ of his eyes…,” Dean shook his head.  Castiel couldn’t take his own eyes off Dean’s face as he listened to the story.  He still didn’t know what question Metatron was positive Dean would ask, but he was drawn in by Dean’s voice.  For his part, Dean held eye contact, as though he was trying to reach in and heal whatever was obviously torn and frayed in Castiel, afraid to look away and break the spell. If only Dean knew the truth about the spell Castiel needed broken.  

“But I came back.  I came back at least once a month, sometimes more often.  Just to try and find something in myself that I hoped would be good enough for the people.  Something changed after I met you for the first time.  I didn’t come here looking to be good enough for the people anymore; I came here looking to be good enough for you.”

Castiel drew in his breath sharply, tears continuing to fall from his eyes.

“At first, I just wanted to be your friend.  You really looked like you needed one that day.  You were on your own.  Even at my worst, I’ve always had Sammy.  I wanted to be that for you, be someone you could lean on and trust.”

Dean laughed and leaned his forehead against Castiel’s, still maintaining eye contact.  “Then I saw you again in that alley.  Finally, I saw a chance to really be your friend.  But it got away from me.  God you were so beautiful, the way you moved in that fight.  I could have watched you for hours…,” Dean’s voice trailed off and the only sound that filled the room were Castiel’s stifled sobs.  Dean reached out and wiped the tears from Castiel’s cheek.  He paused, searching Castiel’s eyes for permission, before gently pressing their lips together.  Like their first kiss, this one was mixed with the salty taste of tears.  This time, they belonged to Castiel, and as Dean deepened the kiss, he felt his heart break and splinter.  There was no saving himself from this.  He was a fool for trying.  He clutched the front of Dean’s jacket and pulled away from the kiss to  bury his face against Dean’s shoulder, crying in earnest.  

Dean wrapped his arms around him and started speaking again, his voice a low, soothing murmur, not knowing how else to comfort Castiel beyond holding him close and rubbing gentle circles into his back.  “I didn’t realize until I was in Hellia exactly how much you meant to me.  I wanted to be there for _you_.  But in the end, you were there for _me_.  Long before you came and found me in that pit.  God, those were some of the worst days I’ve ever known.  Cut off from everyone but my father, never sure what Crowley would demand next.  Only your letters kept me grounded.  If I went too long without one, I started to panic.  When I escaped, I wasn’t heading back home for the people, I was coming home to find you.”  

Castiel’s sobs were strong enough now to wrack his frame.  Dean pulled back to look Castiel in the eyes, framing his face with his hands and tilting Castiel’s chin up so that blue met green.  “I know you’re scared of something Cas.  I don’t know what it is. I wish you’d tell me.  I wish you’d trust me to help you with whatever it is you’re running from.  Were you telling me the truth when you said you love me?”

It was a question, but Castiel knew it wasn’t _the_ question.  It also wasn’t a command.  Castiel could lie.  Tell Dean that, no, he didn’t love him.  That Dean should run as far from him and as fast as possible. It was what he _should_ do. But he couldn’t.  He couldn’t lie to Dean.  He wouldn’t.  

Castiel nodded.  

Dean nodded in return, not in agreement, but as though deciding something.  He backed up and Castiel grabbed at his shirt, trying to pull him closer again, to make this last for as long as possible before the inevitable death of all that Castiel loved.  Dean ignored him and dropped to the ground on one knee.  

Castiel gasped and closed his eyes, tilting his head back, “No, no, no, no, no…” he chanted the refrain on repeat trying to drown out the sound of Dean’s voice.  He now knew what the question would be and he couldn’t hear it.  This couldn’t be what Dean asked him as Castiel was forced to kill him.  Already, Castiel could feel his hand moving towards the angel blade at his hip.  The angel blade Dean himself had given him.  

“Cas,” Dean said from his position on the ground, “whatever it is, we can get through it together.  You’re already like family to me.” Dean grasped Castiel’s left wrist, as though he was afraid Castiel might run off.  Castiel only wished he could.  Dean apparently didn’t notice the direction of Castiel’s sword hand.  Probably never believed Castiel capable of murdering him.  

“Cas, will you marry me?”

Castiel’s world imploded.  Turning in on one focal point.  From a distance, he sensed his arm rising up above his head, blade in hand.  He saw Dean’s face and the fear that entered his eyes.  He felt Dean’s grasp tighten on his wrist.  But Dean was on the ground, vulnerable and unarmed.  

With the eyes of hundreds of Castiels staring him down, Castiel turned inward where a war raged.  

 

 _No_ he begged.

 _You have to_ , another part of him said.

Already, he could feel the pain blooming across his shoulders.

_No, I won’t kill Dean._

_Do it.  You have no choice._

_Why? Why don’t I have a choice?_

 

For a blessed moment, the other voice was silent.  It still demanded action, the pain had not diminished, but Castiel could _think_.  He thought of Dean.  He thought of everything Dean had come to mean to him - friend, family, comfort, love, strength, goodness and hope. He thought of all their letters - sent and unsent; how his world had come to revolve around the words of the man at his feet. He thought of how terrified he was at the idea of Dean dead at the bottom of that pit in Hellia, and he thought of how relieved he was to find he was in fact alive.

From beneath him, Dean looked at him and in a broken voice, said, “Cas? Please, Cas.  I need you.”

Castiel closed his eyes.  The war within him turned on a single point.  

 

_Dean._

 

The name was a spark.  A pinpoint of light. Castiel grabbed for it.

Something broke.  It let Castiel go and he gasped at the sudden shock of it.  He opened his hand and the angel blade clattered harmlessly to the ground.  Castiel’s knees gave out from under him and he collapsed, chest heaving as he gasped for air, as he tried to take stock of what had just happened.  

Dimly, he was aware of Dean scrambling away from him, eyeing him warily, as though he were a rabid animal.

He hadn’t killed Dean and the curse pains were gone.  That could only happen if…

“I’m free,” he whispered.  Could it be true?  He took stock of himself.  He felt more full, more sure and complete.  There was no division within him of _will_ against _won’t_.  

He looked up at Dean again, noticing the fear on Dean’s face for the first time.  “I’m free,” he repeated, louder, a plea for Dean to understand.  

“Cas?” Dean asked cautiously, still keeping his distance.  Dean’s uncertainty hurt Castiel, but he understood it and it didn’t scare him the way it once would.  

“Give me an order.” Castiel said.

“What?” Dean asked, blankly.  Castiel sighed impatiently.  He knew Dean probably thought he was crazy, but he needed to be _sure_ before he could truly trust himself.  

“Tell me to do something, anything,” Castiel clarified.  “That won’t end in one of us being hurt,” he amended, just in case the curse hadn’t been broken after all.    

“Ok...tell me what’s going on.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, “I was hoping for something I wasn’t already planning to do.” He smiled anyway.  There was no compulsion to speak.  He hadn’t yet begun his explanation, but there was no pain in his back.  He truly was free, for the first time in his memory.

Dean on the other hand frowned, “Look, Cas, I have no idea what’s going on here.  First you tell me you’ll stand beside me no matter what, then you write me a note that all but breaks my heart.  You came back and tell me you love me, but you won’t tell me why you left or why you’re so upset.  Then when I ask you to marry me, you try to kill me.  Excuse me if those aren’t mixed signals.  What I need right now is an explanation.”

Castiel smiled and held out a hand to Dean, making sure to make no move towards the angel blade.  Castiel felt more at peace with himself than he ever had before.  It must have shown on his face because Dean accepted the hand, cautiously moving closer until he was sitting directly opposite Castiel.  Castiel smiled at their hands, entwining their fingers together loosely.

“I was cursed, Dean.”

Dean’s face was a mask of confusion.  

“When I was a baby, the angel Naomi ‘blessed’ me with obedience.  Whatever someone told me to do, I had to do.  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t break the curse on my own. I wasn’t enough.  My need wasn’t enough.   _You_ were enough.  You said you needed me,” Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand, “and it was enough.”

Castiel closed his eyes against the thought of what might have been and whispered, “I didn’t kill you.  You were enough.  I need you too, Dean.”

Dean’s face softened, “You’re sure the curse is broken now?”

Castiel nodded, “I’m sure.  You gave me a command.  I obeyed, but only because I wanted to.  There was no _requirement_ to obey.”

Dean smiled, “So, if I were to command you to kiss me, you could tell me no?”

Castiel smiled back, “I could,” he confirmed, “but only if I wanted to.”

Dean’s grin widened in a challenge, “Kiss me.”

Castiel leaned forward, pressing his lips against Dean’s.  His hand found his way to Dean’s neck and wove his fingers through the short hair there.  Dean made a small sound at the touch and swept his tongue out, seeking entrance against Castiel’s mouth.

Castiel yielded.  For the first time, the kiss wasn’t tainted with the taste of sorrow and pain.  Castiel could only taste Dean and joy bubbled through his chest. It was more than a comfort, it was an affirmation.  

After what felt like an eternity, and yet no time at all, Dean pulled away, his breathing heavy.  

“I have another question for you, Cas.”

“Hmmm?” Castiel responded, too content to say much else.  

“If _you_ weren’t the one who wanted to kill me, that means someone else does.  Who else found out about your curse?”

Castiel’s eyes shot open.  Of course just because his curse was broken, that didn’t mean Dean was safe.  He was furious with himself for forgetting the bigger picture.

“Metatron,” he growled, tightening his hold on Dean as though to protect him.  

Dean, however pulled away in surprise.  “What?” he asked.  “Metatron has been my father’s advisor for as long as I can remember.  Why would he want me dead?”

“Metatron’s an angel - a rather bitter one at that.  He worked a deal with Crowley behind your backs.  You were right, Crowley never intended to sign a treaty with your father.  It was a ruse to remove you and your father from power so Metatron could take the throne. You’ve said yourself Sam has no interest in ruling.”

There was a flash of fear in Dean’s eyes, “If he’s that determined though...Sammy’s in danger too…”

“He’ll wait to confirm you’re dead first. I’m sure of that.  Did you tell him you were going to bring me here tonight?”

“What? Yes, I told him this morning…,” Dean’s face paled. “That’s why you left?  That’s why you wrote that letter?”

Castiel nodded.  “I didn’t know what else to do.  The thought of killing you...” Castiel shook his head.  It was done.  The curse was broken, but Castiel had to swallow hard against the lingering fear.  “I tried to stay away,” he whispered.  “It didn’t work.”

Dean smiled briefly, squeezing Castiel’s hand, “I’m glad.”

After a moment though, his face hardened.  “So what should we do about Metatron?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes in contemplation.  “I know how to summon him.  We could bring him here.  It would certainly be safer than trying to confront him in the ballroom.”

Dean nodded in agreement.  “But then what?  How do you hold an angel captive?  I saw Naomi at your father’s wedding.  She just vanished with a snap of her fingers.”

“Benny,” Castiel said, looking up. “I left Benny just outside the door.  Perhaps he can come up with something.”

Castiel jumped up to grab the book, Dean right behind him.  Fortunately, Benny was right where he left him.  At the sight of Castiel and Dean together, Benny let out a heavy breath of relief.  “What happened?” he demanded.  

Castiel smiled, “I broke the curse.”

Benny smiled back, “Knew you had it in you, kiddo.  Anna did to.  She always said you could do it.  So what’s the plan now?”

“We capture Metatron,” Dean said, his voice a dangerous rumble.

Benny frowned.  “Angels don’t capture so easy.  Might end up having to kill him.”

Castiel tilted his head in question.  “How do you kill an angel? I thought they were immortal?”

“Takes a special weapon.  Lucky for you, you happen to have one on hand.”

 

* * *

 

There was a heated debate between Castiel and Dean as to whose blood would be used for the sigils.  Castiel argued his arm was already cut, there was no need for Dean to slice his own arm too.  Ultimately, he won.  This time, rather than just creating one sigil to summon Metatron, they also created a second sigil on the door of the room that would bind him as soon as he was within the walls, nullifying his power in the process.

Soon, they were ready.  Dean moved to stand on the opposite side of the sigil and faced Castiel.  He held Benny and chanted the summoning spell as Castiel stood ready, armed with the angel blade.   

Metatron arrived with much less flare than had Naomi.  His entrance lacked the drama of the thunder and lightening, but there was still a swirl of wind that rustled their clothes and Benny’s pages.  Dean quickly closed Benny and set him on the ground behind him so that he would have his hands free.  

When Metatron appeared, he was facing Castiel.  “What’s the meaning of this?” Metatron shouted, apoplectic at being called against his will.  To Castiel’s relief, he didn’t seem to notice the spell had broken. “How dare you summon me? I told you, I don’t get my hands dirty.  Is the Prince dead yet?”

Dean shifted.  As he did, the hundreds of Deans reflected around the room shifted with him, effectively catching Metatron’s attention.  

“Prince Dean!” Metatron pursed his lips in an oily attempt of a smile. “I thought you planned to ask young Castiel here a special question.  Did you - ah - did you change your mind?”

“Metatron.  Did you or did you not, make a deal with King Crowley that resulted in King John’s capture and execution?” Dean asked, his voice low and level.  

“What? Execution? No! Of course not.  What would make you think that?”  His eyes darted to Castiel who stood still and said nothing.  

“Don’t lie to me, Metatron, and do not try my patience.”  Dean took a step forward.

Metatron snapped his fingers.  Nothing happened.  

“Expecting to go somewhere?” Dean smirked and pointed to the binding sigil on the door.

Metatron paled slightly before he narrowed his eyes.  “Given the sigils and summoning spell, it’s clear you already know I’m an angel.  You might have me trapped here, but that’s only a temporary solution.”

“You’re right, holding you here is temporary, at least until we get some answers.”

Metatron sneered, “And what if I don’t give them?”

Dean nodded in Castiel’s direction.  “I believe you recognize the weapon Cas is holding.  That’s an angel blade.  Unless my information is mistaken, it happens to be the only type of weapon that can effectively kill you.  Now, do you want to start talking? Or do I order Cas to start cutting?”

A myriad of expressions crossed Metatron’s face - suspicion, scorn, fury, and disbelief - before finally settling on fearful resignation.  

“Your father isn’t dead.”

Dean froze.  “What?”

“Crowley was supposed to capture you both and kill you together.  When he sent word that you had escaped, I ordered him to wait.  He’s still being held prisoner in Crowley’s dungeon.”

“Why should we believe you?”

“Why would I lie?  None of this was my idea you know.  It was all Crowley.  He came to me with the deal. The offer was too good.” Metatron insisted.  “I can help you get the king back.”  

Castiel frowned.  He didn’t believe Metatron for a moment.  

Dean’s glower deepened.  “I don’t think so. You tried to have me and my father killed.  Who knows what you would have done to Sammy.  You manipulated Cas and used him like a tool.  No, we’re done here.”

Metatron turned to Castiel.  He regained some of his previous arrogance as he stood tall and looked Castiel in the eye, a sneer on his face.  “I don’t know what loophole kept you from killing the Prince, but I order you to let me go, alive and unharmed.”

Castiel felt his jaw tighten and his face turn to stone.  He looked to Dean for permission first.  At Dean’s nod, Castiel stepped forward and thrust the angel blade upward, into Metatron’s sternum.  

At the point of contact a bright light spilled from the angel.  He thrust his arms out and the light spread to spill from every orifice.  Both Dean and Castiel turned away, shielding their eyes as the light was magnified by the mirrors around them.  An unearthly scream filled the room to be accompanied moments later by the tinkling sounds of shattering glass.  Then everything was still.  

Castiel kept his face hidden for a good ten seconds after the silence fell, unsure whether it was safe to look or not. When he did lift his eyes, the first thing he saw was Dean staring back at him.  Between them on the floor was Metatron’s broken body and an outline of charred wings spreading from his back.  Shattered glass littered the floor, catching the light and tossing it through the room in strange, flickering patterns.  

Behind Dean, a lump on the ground moved and groaned.  Castiel stood quickly and hurried to Dean’s side, angel blade at the ready.  As the lump sat up, clearly disoriented, Castiel could only stare in shock.

“Benny?” He asked.

Sure enough, the large book was gone and the face Castiel had become so familiar with was now connected to a human body.  “Well I’ll be,” Benny said wonderingly.  He stood up laughing, grasping each Castiel and Dean by the hand before dancing a small jig.  “Castiel, I don’t know what you did, but thank you, kiddo.  I mean that from the bottom of my heart.  Now, if you’ll pardon me gentlemen, I have a lady to find, and I do believe she’ll be wanting news on this development too,” he grinned indicating Dean and Castiel.  

They watched as Benny walked out the door, a bounce in his step and whistling a tune to himself.  

Castiel turned to Dean, a smile splitting his face.  “I believe you asked me something earlier tonight that I never had a chance to answer.”

Dean cocked his head, “Did I?  I don’t seem to remember.”

Castiel laughed, and leaned in to kiss him.  He meant for it to be no more than a quick peck, but Dean caught the back of his head and held him close.  

When they pulled apart again, Dean’s expression was serious, though his eyes were dancing. “Marry me,” he said.

Castiel pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes as he pretended to contemplate the order.  He couldn’t hold the ruse for more than a few seconds before answering on a laugh, “Now that, I’ll do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I've said before that I was have Ella Enchanted feels all through Season 8, now that we're finally at this point, I can link to the post that sealed the deal and made the story something I HAD to write. Having read this chapter, you should know this scene!!! 
> 
> http://colonialdncr.tumblr.com/tagged/ella-enchanted


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Lis (clotpoleofthelord) for her last minute emergency beta on this chapter!

In retrospect, it would have been nice if Metatron’s death had solved all their problems.  True to form, reality wasn’t that simple.  King John’s fate was still uncertain and King Crowley’s actions against Fell’s rulers constituted an act of war.  

Fortunately, Castiel was able to contact Meg.  Though he wasn’t sure how much influence she or her family had in Hellia, he knew they at least had some level of monetary power and weren’t fond of their monarch.  As it turned out, they had quite a bit of control over a faction of the population who disagreed with Crowley’s claim on the throne and sought to restore the rightful heir in his place.  Through this group, they were able to determine King John was in fact alive, though still imprisoned.  

Castiel stood at his side as Dean, now officially the leader of the Hunters, organized both that elite group and the regular military along the border in full force before offering Crowley a deal: return King John and sign a peace treaty or Fell would form an alliance with the rebels in Hellia and officially declare war.  

Crowley agreed to the terms.

 

* * *

 

The negotiations to return King John took a little more than a month.  During that time, Dean ruled in John’s place.  Castiel watched with pride, offering his opinion when Dean sought it.  Dean was a good leader.  The people trusted him and he treated them with respect and kindness, listening before acting.  Despite this, Dean worried about facing his father again and insisted that Castiel be present the first time they spoke privately after his return.  

Dean and Castiel stood together outside the doors to the office where Castiel had first met Metatron.  Dean took a deep breath and shot a nervous look at Castiel.  

In return, Castiel smiled, twining their fingers together before leaning forward and brushing a light kiss against Dean’s lips.  “Dean.  You don’t need to be concerned.  You’ve done well in the King’s absence.  Not only have you earned the people’s good opinion, you managed to avert a _war_.”

Dean’s mouth tried to twitch upwards at the edges, but the tightness around his eyes didn’t ease.  “Cas, my father’s not exactly the doting parent type.  I’m sure I’ve done something he wouldn’t approve of.  He’s never thought I’ve been ready to rule.  What if he doesn’t approve that we’re supporting Meg and her faction?  What if the change in the crop rotation schedules winds up failing?  What if…”

Castiel cut Dean off with another kiss, this time, placing his free hand on the back of Dean’s neck to pull him forward.  It worked. When they pulled apart, Dean was flushed, but quiet.

“Dean.  Whatever happens, happens.  Whatever your father says, doesn’t change the fact that you served the country well.”  

Castiel focused on calming Dean, hoping to ease his own nerves as he did.  Until now, Castiel had stood in the background as John was brought back into the fold of the palace.  This would be the first time he would be actually meet the King, and as Dean’s fiance no less.  What if what the King didn’t approve of was _him_?  

He had already been welcomed by the rest of the palace.  Sam had been delighted to finally get to know him.  Evidently Dean had spoken about him rather frequently over the years.  When they were finally formally introduced, Sam had practically fallen over himself to shake his hand.  Castiel had been grateful, if slightly bemused by the warm welcome.  Now, he was happy to call the younger prince his friend as well.  

Over the years, however, Dean had often spoken of his father’s high expectations for his eldest son.  Castiel worried those expectations would extend to whomever Dean chose to stand by his side while he ruled.  What if the King met Castiel and found him lacking?  After all he and Dean had been through, Castiel wasn’t sure how he would let him go.  If he even _could_.  

When neither of them could postpone the inevitable any longer, Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand tightly in his own and pushed the door open to enter the room.  

King John turned towards them, standing just beneath a large, life-size portrait of himself.  Castiel could immediately see the difference.  The King in the portrait was a robust man, full of life.  The man standing before them was more drawn, tired and thin.  Both painting and man had a stern glint to their eye and iron in their soul, but the man seemed somewhat diminished.  

Dean dropped Castiel’s hand to stand in front of his father, legs shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back as though he was expecting a review.  Castiel supposed that might not be too far from the truth.

John stared at his son for a moment, and Castiel wondered what he saw.  In the month and a half since Dean had returned from Hellia, he had started laughing again, though the sound was still rarer than it once had been.  Dean had grown up.  He had shouldered the responsibility of the kingdom and proved himself worthy.

Both Castiel and Dean were caught off guard when John stepped forward and engulfed his son in a large hug.  

Dean, surprised, hesitated a moment before his arms reached around to grasp his father back, burying his face in his shoulder.  Castiel felt a tension he wasn’t fully aware of leave him as he watched the pair.  Just before John let go, and barely loud enough for both Dean and Castiel to hear, he said, “I’m proud of you son.”  

When they pulled apart, both father and son’s gazes were slightly damp.  Castiel never mentioned it.  

 

* * *

 

After the first meeting with John, Dean began to take on a more active role as heir apparent, filling in where Metatron had once stood.  In addition to leading the Hunters, Dean now oversaw the distribution of land and mediated disputes between the people.  Castiel was appointed Advisor to the Prince at Dean’s insistence.

When Castiel protested, saying the position wasn’t necessary, Dean had laughed and said, “Cas, I would be asking for your advice anyway, we might as well make it official.”  

To Castiel’s great relief, John had accepted him unquestionably - especially after his part in both Dean and John’s escape from Hellia was revealed.  

“This kingdom owes you a great deal, Castiel,” John had told him, “and Dean will need someone like you standing by him, both as a counselor and as a partner.”  The King had glanced wistfully at a portrait of the late queen as he spoke.

* * *

 

Dean and Castiel were married on a Thursday.  The day was perfect.  As Castiel stood in a tent preparing to meet Dean for the ceremony, a slight breeze blew through the door, bringing with it the freshness of spring.  

Anna smiled as she helped him adjust his cravat.  “Your mother would be so proud of you,” she said, wistfully.  

“Thank you,” Castiel said quietly.  

He was dressed in a deep, rich blue jacket over an intricately embroidered waistcoat and cream colored pants tucked into a pair of tall, black leather boots.  He looked into the small hand mirror on the table again, trying to tame his hair.  

A deep rich laugh sounded from the flap at the entrance of the tent.  “Ain’t gonna help, kiddo,” said Benny affectionately.  He stepped into the tent, wrapping an arm around Anna’s waist and drawing her close as she dabbed moisture from her eye.  

Matching rings graced both of their fingers, their own wedding having taken place within a week of Benny’s curse being broken.  Anna refused to wait any longer, claiming she’d had more than enough time to plan a wedding should the day ever come.  They both now lived in the palace along with Castiel.  After all, there was nothing left in Castiel’s old home to tie them there.  

Castiel had once asked Anna how Benny had been freed from the book.  “I thought you said only the angel that gave the blessing could remove it?”

Anna had looked at him thoughtfully before answering.  “Usually that’s true.  When you killed Metatron though, you released an enormous amount of Grace. Though, even that alone wouldn’t have been enough.  I think it only worked because you were the one who wielded the angel blade.  That drop of Nephilim blood helped you several times that day. It was what gave you the ability to focus enough to break your own spell. When Metatron died, his Grace reflected off of and was magnified by that tiny spark in you. I suspect any blessing in the vicinity might have been broken.”  

Now, Anna looked to Benny and asked, “Is it done?”

He smiled and nodded before bending down to give her a kiss.  “It’s done.”

Castiel glanced back and forth between the two.  “What are you talking about?”

While Benny just grinned, Anna’s expression was a mix between embarrassed and irritated.  “We wanted to make sure Naomi couldn’t make an appearance today and give you another _blessing_ ,” she said.

“So we summoned her and bound her for a bit,” Benny continued, laughing.  

Anna’s eyes narrowed.  “She can cool her heels for a while.  I plan to have a nice long _chat_ with her after the ceremony.”  

Castiel smiled wide and hugged them both, more relieved than he could express in words.  

The wedding itself took place in the palace gardens.  Dean and Castiel stood together in front of their friends and family, having agreed to keep the ceremony itself small, since the kingdom would be celebrating for at least a week after.  Castiel’s stepfamily was _not_ invited.  Though they did send an invitation to Lord Carver, no one was quite sure where he had wandered to in his latest literary pursuit so it was impossible to tell if he’d simply not received the invitation in time, or if he had chosen to ignore it.  It didn’t matter to Castiel.  Everyone he loved, cared about and considered family was in attendance.  

The sky was slightly overcast - just enough to ensure the guests wouldn’t be blinded by the sun.  For Dean and Cas, it didn’t matter, sun or shade, they could only see each other.  

“Seriously, guys,” Charlie joked during the celebration following the ceremony, “why did you even bother inviting guests?  Did you even notice any of us were there?”  

They did deviate slightly from the traditional vows.  

Rather than promising to love, honor, cherish and _obey_ , Castiel and Dean, by mutual agreement, opted to substitute the word with _trust_.

It wasn’t the only deviation from tradition.  Anna, of course, was in charge of dessert and Castiel had made a special request.  Dean laughed and pulled his new husband in for a kiss when he saw that in place of a traditional wedding cake, the table held a tiered platter filled with no fewer than one hundred pies, ranging from regular sized along the bottom, to individual sized closer to the top.  

As they each fed each other the first symbolic slice, Dean got a wicked glint in his eye.  Unfortunately, Castiel didn’t react fast enough to avoid the pie to the face.  He laughed along with the rest of the guests as Dean then proceed to kiss it off.  

 

* * *

 

In Hellia, Crowley’s failed attempt at a war with Fell spurred further discontent amongst his people.  Within six months, he had been dethroned.  The new queen, Abaddon, took his place with Meg at her side.  Castiel and Meg renewed their friendship and through the two of them, the alliance between the kingdoms stood strong, bringing peace after almost a hundred years of tension.

 King John continued to reign for another five years after Dean and Castiel were married.  He never quite recovered from his captivity in Hellia and eventually chose to step down in favor of Dean.  As Castiel had always predicted, Dean was a good king, beloved by the people, and surpassing his father in his reputation for his ability to balance, strength, wisdom and tolerance.  

Eventually, Dean and Castiel adopted three children - two boys and a girl.  As she was for Castiel, and Lady Ellen before him, Anna was their guardian angel.

Their life wasn’t perfect.  Like any couple they fought.  Castiel, it transpired, could be very obstinate once he learned the pleasures of saying _no_. But no matter what the argument, the strength of their bond drew them through it and brought them closer than before. Eventually, they learned the art of compromise. All-in-all, they lived happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I can't believe it's all posted! Thank you again to everyone who's read this far. For those of you who have been with this from the beginning and/or made a point of posting a comment on every chapter - thank you. It's because of you that I will keep writing.


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